Cake Batter Ice Cream and Thunder Gods
by Lady NeverAfterNon
Summary: It's been two years and Jane Foster is ready to toss in the towel. A certain Thunder God thinks otherwise. Thor/Jane movie verse with comic elements. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1 Cake Batter and Thunder Gods

**Author's Note:**_ Saw Thor the other day. Awesome movie. So I can't help myself, here's my take on it as I need closure. I know he's going to be in the ultimate avengers movie they're making, but I'm an impatient lady. So here we go! Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Cake Batter Ice Cream and Thunder Gods**

**By:** Lady NeverAfterNon

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Jane Foster pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm the massive migraine that had been stabbing at her brain for the better part of a week. She sighed. Jane yanked out one of her lab's lumpy and uncomfortable rollaway chairs from where it had been wedged underneath a desk and sank into it, wishing she'd thought to take a break hours ago and run to the convenience store for painkillers before her brain decided to murder her slowly.

She pinched harder, then winced when it didn't work. No dice, not that pinching normally helped anyway. Her head kept happily throbbing away, sending what she imagined to be miniature laser turrets stabbing into her temporal lobe.

Jane rested her head on her forearms and stared into her computer screen, eyes seeing the various data sheets and logistics logs but not really registering them. Everything was swimming together; she was so unbelievably tired.

It had been exactly two years and a day since Thor had opened the Bifrost, promising her he'd return for her. Two years. Two freaking years. She had been at this from the moment he'd left, trying to reconstruct the Einstein-Rosen bridge from her end. The only problem was, not only did she not have enough power but the damn thing was unstable. The simulations her computers ran again and again showed a temperamental wormhole that degraded before matter could fully integrate through to the other side. And did she mention she didn't have enough power? She'd been trying to bully Tony Stark into building her a power source capable of sustaining the wormhole, but the man was a mule when it came to getting him to do anything.

It was enough to give any astrophysicist a headache.

The lab was quiet now, all the underlings S.H.E.I.L.D had given her in order to complete their little Operation: Retrieve Thor For Avengers Program had gone home. Or rather, they'd been sneaking out one by one when they'd thought she wasn't looking. Well, she supposed she had been working them a little too hard. Not only was she under pressure from Phil Coulson and his cronies to finish the project, but she was haunted in her dreams every night by a Norse god with clear blue eyes and a devastating smile. She thought it was amazing she wasn't nuts already.

She wiped at her eyes, then started in surprise and began scrubbing furiously at them when she discovered they were wet. Crying, she couldn't believe it. She was crying over a man she'd barely known a few weeks. Ridiculous.

Jane straightened and began to tap furiously away at her computer. No way was she getting upset over this, not Jane Foster.

"Late night again?"

Jane looked up. Natasha Romanoff peeled herself from the shadows and sauntered forward, managing to make the business suit and glasses she was wearing look fit for a queen. A sultry, borderline indecent queen. Jane unconsciously patted at her messy brown hair that hadn't been brushed in a while and tried to hide the mac an' cheese stain on her blouse from lunch. Natasha always had that uncomfortable inadequate effect on her, even though the Black Widow had always been nothing but nice.

Natasha pulled a chair up to sit next to her and handed her a cup of coffee. "I thought the boss ordered you and your team to take a break?"

"I had a few things to follow up," Jane muttered uncomfortably, not really looking at her.

The Black Widow settled in and showed no signs of leaving Jane alone any time soon. Natasha rested her delicate chin on her palm and sipped her own latte, eyes watching the numbers play across Jane's computer screen. It was quiet save for Jane's fingers typing on the keyboard and the computer humming quietly.

"So what got you stuck with me?" Jane asked, unable to stand the silence and finally asking the question that had been plaguing her now for months.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What did you do to get stuck with me and my team?"

Natasha was beautiful and deadly and it had always confused Jane that she'd been handed the task of babysitting a bunch of lab nerds that never went outside. Natasha certainly didn't look like she was made for that sort of job, she always looked like she'd walked straight off of the set of a James Bond film. So why Phil Coulson put her in charge of the security of their little team she could only guess.

Natasha chuckled, swirling the dregs of coffee around in her Styrofoam cup. "My boss, Mr. Fury simply felt that considering recent events you needed a guardian."

Recent events? Did she mean the giant Asgard killer robot that had annihilated the better part of a town? That had been two years ago and S.H.E.I.L.D had certainly stepped up security since. Jane certainly hoped it was about the Destroyer. If it was Loki… She'd never met Loki personally but she'd seen the look of anguish on Thor's face whenever he'd come up in conversation and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to meet the guy. In the Norse myths Loki was single handedly responsible for the killing of both Thor and Odin as well as bringing about Ragnarok and the end of the world. Watching Natasha's expression, she suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to know. The thought of her Thor being eaten by a damn snake made her sick. And an apocalypse would suck too.

"Ah." Ah was a perfect word, very noncommittal.

Natasha grinned at her, obviously misreading her 'Ah' to mean something else entirely. "Trust me Ms. Foster, after Tony Stark there isn't anything that you could possibly do that I haven't seen before."

Well that certainly raised some interesting questions. She knew Stark was a handful, and probably the main reason for most of Nick Fury's migraines, but she hadn't known Natasha had been there to witness the crazy first hand.

They were quiet a moment, Jane typing and Natasha still sipping coffee, having finished her own and moving straight on to Jane's untouched cup.

Jane stopped typing. "So did that jello thing with those models and all the badgers and Stark actually-?"

"Yes, yes it did."

The look on the Black Widow's face as she recalled _that_ particular memory was priceless, like she'd accidentally eaten a lemon and no one had thought to tell her it would be sour.

Jane choked, and then to her complete surprise started laughing.

She was laughing so hard her stomach hurt and tears were prickling the corners of her eyes. She hadn't laughed in ages and she couldn't even remember a time when she'd laughed so hard she'd cried. Somehow she was thinking about Thor again. And she was certainly crying now, crying over a man who hadn't even told her he liked her. A man she'd practically assaulted when he'd merely kissed her hand.

God she was an idiot. It was the stress talking, or rather crying. Stress and no sleep.

"Ms. Foster?" Natasha was looking at her, concerned, and she gripped Jane's shoulder and gave her a little shake.

"I'm okay. Sorry, I'm not usually this much of a mess." Jane was plucking tissues from her purse, cartoon Norse tissues for kids that Darcy had stashed, probably thinking she was being funny. It was funny how a stupid tissue almost set her off again.

"Well staying up night after night worrying probably isn't helping any."

They were quiet again, Natasha's hand still resting awkwardly on Jane's shoulder.

"If you don't mind my asking," Natasha asked finally, "Why're you doing this?"

Jane looked up at her, eyes still slightly red not just from tears but from physical exhaustion that was beginning to show due to the long hours put in at the lab and the pressure of the constant deadlines, confused and more than a little perplexed. Why was she doing what? Blubbering like a baby? Crying over a gorgeous guy that had basically left her in a puff of smoke? Granted, they hadn't actually had enough time to even form a relationship, but still. The spark had been there.

'_Being human_,' Jane thought, annoyed, '_what do you think I'm doing, lady_?'

"Not to sound callous, I mean it's not my business, I simply follow orders, but what if Thor didn't come back because he didn't want to and not because he couldn't?" Natasha asked.

"What do you mean?" Jane could feel her stomach sinking, not liking where this conversation was going.

Natasha hesitated and then pulled out a sleek black Android had ever seen from somewhere in her suit. The casing was shiny and simple, and she wondered whether Stark had got his hands on it, because she had a feeling it could store her entire lab in it no problem. Jane made a mental note to ask Coulson if he could get her any more high tech doohickey's.

At the very least it might have games on it that would keep Darcy occupied the next time Jane had a deadline. Angry Birds saving the world, one lab intern at a time.

Natasha poked at it then showed Jane the little screen. Photos of Sif flicked across the screen, snapshots of manuscripts detailing the mythology of the Norse goddess, but the last one was of a very real and corporeal Sif sitting on top of the Destroyer's massive shoulders ramming her spear into its neck. Jane looked away, now knowing for sure now where this was going.

"She was his wife in the legends and stories. Did he say or do anything to indicate otherwise?" Natasha asked.

"...No."

"I was just wondering, if you were doing this to prove your research or for something else. You know that S.H.E.I.L.D won't allow you to publish anything on account of it being classified. So…what makes you work so hard?"

Jane stared at her computer screen, her life's work displayed and she suddenly realized that it all meant nothing. No one was going to know what she'd accomplished. No one would care. She thought that she and Thor had had something special, and she'd practically killed herself trying to find him again. But-what if the reason he didn't come back was that he didn't want to be found?

The fierce exaltation on Sif's face as she sat astride the Destroyer burned through her. Not only was she pretty, but she was also a Norse goddess. There was no way she herself could compete, not in terms of fierce baddassery. Thor would want someone, eventually, who was his equal. What they had between them wouldn't work, not in the long run. Her heart shattered in that moment. What had it all been for? What had it been worth? Nothing. Jane wanted to laugh, and could feel the hysteria from exhaustion and heartbreak coming on. She suddenly wanted nothing more in that moment than to retreat back to her trailer with a giant tub of cake batter ice cream and reruns of StarGate.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Natasha watched her unhappily.

Jane looked at her, swallowed, and tried not to break down for the forth or fifth time in front of the Black Widow. She'd already blubbered enough to last a lifetime.

"It's alright, I'm fine. If it's okay with you I'm going to call it a night and turn in." She was very pleased with herself in keeping her voice in some semblance of calm.

Jane gathered her stuff together and left the lab. It was all she could do to make herself walk calmly to her trailer and not run like another Destroyer was at her heels.

Natasha watched her leave, still looking uncertain.

"Goodnight," she called.

Jane said nothing, and immediately felt bad. Natasha had only been trying to help. Jane couldn't help it though; merely fled and hoped it didn't look like she was fleeing.

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><p>.x.<p>

She was dreaming. She had to be. It was her trailer, sort of. Only the walls were made of what smelled faintly of cake batter ice cream and her ratty old flower quilt had been replaced by the thickest, most deep crimson comforter she'd ever seen. The final candle on the metaphorical dream cake was the tall scruffy blond man dressed in plaid and standing at her kitchen table making coffee out of a miniature StarGate. Jane pinched her forearm, then looked back at the table. Yep, Thor was in her kitchen, clad like a lumberjack, and he was making coffee out of a fictional TV wormhole.

That settled it. Her dreams were getting weirder, and it was a good possibility that all the time in the lab was driving her bonkers. She made a mental note to go out and get sunlight more often.

He finished adding cream to the coffees and dumping in enough sugar to make a saint diabetic and then padded towards her on bare feet.

Jane watched him move towards her, then grunted and flopped back into the bed, tugging that lovely red duvet up to her chin and shoving the pillow over her head. She didn't have to play this game; dammit it was her dream, she'd do what she liked and all she wanted at the moment was to be left alone.

It didn't look like her subconscious was going to listen, however, she could feel a finger digging into her ribs searching mercilessly for any ticklish points. She twitched in spite of herself and she had to work hard to keep from giggling. Oh no, her dream was not going to get her _that_ easily.

"Bugger off!" she shouted, voice muffled by the pillow, swatting a hand in Dream Thor's general direction.

The finger stopped poking and for a moment she thought she'd succeeded in driving off extremely annoying Dream Thor. Then, the duvet disappeared and she found herself shivering. The bastard had stolen her blanket! Oh, it was on now. Her eyes shot open and she flung the pillow off at him. Dream Thor deftly dodged the pillow, setting the two coffees down on the table to avoid getting soaked.

"Go away," she snapped, jabbing a finger at him, "You've bothered me enough."

He looked very confused, a little hurt, and downright adorable. Jane pinched herself again. If he kept giving her that face, dream or not...

"I don't understand, Jane Foster, I thought- well, I thought we cared for each other."

"Yeah?" she was still shouting, "I thought so too. I was wrong!"

"Jane."

Her name from his mouth nearly undid her and to her complete embarrassment she found herself crying again. She scrubbed angrily at her eyes. It wasn't like she minded crying in front of Dream Thor, showing tears in front of the real Thor would be another thing entirely. No, it was the fact that yet again she was sobbing like a little girl. She didn't think she'd cried so much in her entire life as much as she had on this one day.

"Why do you have to confuse me?" she mumbled, pushing at him as he attempted to draw her into his arms.

"Shh," he murmured, sinking next to her on the bed and hauling her into his lap.

His arms drew around her and in the back of her mind she registered again at the strength and power in them. Arms that could turn a Destroyer into a bunch of scrap metal were now holding her like she was some fragile origami butterfly that would scrunch at the lightest touch. Jane gave up and rested her forehead against the crook of his neck and shoulder. The cotton of his plaid shirt was soft, and smelled like dryer sheets. She smiled. It was a dream and it was going to end, for now she was going to damn well enjoy it.

"Why did you have to be married to Sif? Why did I have to fall in love you? Why did you leave?" Jane muttered, remembering that she was supposed to be annoyed, punching him in his gut with each word. "Jerk."

He choked and his large body shook, obviously trying hard not to laugh. He failed miserably and his head went back. Dream Thor laughed so hard his face was red.

Jane jerked her head back to look at him, and for a moment those blue eyes crinkled in laughter completely disarmed her. Then she got a grip on herself, she was not going to let a dream dump her head over heels again, no siree.

"You're laughing at me!"

"Sif?" he gasped, "You think me- and Sif?"

He went back to laughing, barely able to get a breath in. Squelching his laughter was hopeless. Jane shook her head and reached for her coffee, waiting for him to get over it. She sipped at it, then started chugging it eagerly. It was the best coffee she'd ever had, and she considered herself to be a coffee connoisseur.

"Done yet?" she said, poking him in his lovely, firm stomach.

"Oh Jane, you say the most amusing things," he said finally, wiping at his streaming eyes.

"Hey! Again with the laughing! Quit it," she snapped, "My logic makes perfect sense."

Almost like he read what she was thinking, he chuckled again.

"Still think this is a dream, Jane Foster?"

"Of course it's a dream, what else would it be?"

He said nothing, merely looked at her with that stupid half grin tugging at the corner of his delicious mouth.

Oh no. This was a dream, please let it be a dream. Oh god, her dream was screwing with her, that had to be it.

"It's not a dream, is it?" she said slowly.

He shook his head, still grinning.

She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed at her behavior beyond belief. She couldn't even look at him. God, he probably thought she was retarded. Even if he wasn't shacked up with some Norse Xena Warrior Princess, there was no way he'd be attracted to her now, not after what she'd just pulled.

"Hey, look at me," he said, gently peeling her hands from her face.

She complied, flashing him a nervous smile. He smiled back and cupped her face in his large palm. She could feel the heat from his skin and the callouses on his hand and her eyes slid closed again. his rough thumb stroked her cheek lightly. This was real, he was real. She felt his lips on her forehead and, making sure their coffee was within easy reach, he plumped the pillows up behind them and made sure she was tucked up against him before he pulled the red duvet up around them.

"So does this mean that you'll keep trying?" he asked finally.

She didn't say anything for a while, merely listened to the sound of his heart fluttering into her ear through his thin flannel shirt.

"How did you know?" she asked finally, "That I...gave up?"

"Heimdall."

"Ah." She really should have seen that one coming.

He pulled back to look at her. "There is a path, from Asgard to Midgard, though it is not a friendly road. It's called Gjallarbru and it travels through Niflheim."

She looked at him, not understanding.

"I made a promise Jane, that I'd find you again. I intend to keep that promise. I will walk that road in order to be true to my word," he said, grasping her hands.

"So," she said slowly, "This really is a dream. You aren't here."

He sighed. "It depends on how you look at it. I am really here, but you're also dreaming. I had to pull a lot of strings to bring this on."

She reared back, ready to fight again, "If I'm on the Thunder God equivalent of an acid trip so help me I'll-"

He bent forward and gave her a kiss reminiscent of the one she'd planted on him just before he'd had to leave her all those years ago. He kissed her fiercely, and there was no gentleness in it though his arms never tightened and he still held her like she was a china doll. Jane felt her limbs turn instantly to putty and something hot boiled in her belly. She fisted both hands in his long blond hair and kissed him back recklessly, nibbling at his full mouth. He was laughing happily as he lifted her onto his lap and stood, swinging her around. She wound her legs around his hips and kissed him again, hard. His beard scratched at her cheeks and he smelled like rain and ozone. He was something she could become addicted to, something she found that she never wanted to be without.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily, and she rested her forehead against his.

"Jane," he whispered, "Don't stop looking."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"I can't fix the Bifrost, not with what I have. It is unclear, but from what I can gather you have the tools in Midgard to rebuild it, or at least start. And I can't travel Gjallarbru, not without starting another war. I will do it to keep my word and my honor, but I beg you not to ask that of me."

She snorted, "You did research."

He grinned at her. "This isn't just a pretty face, sweetheart."

"Since when does the Thunder God do research?"

"Since he met a lovely scientist who keeps hitting him with her transportation device."

They laughed, then were quiet. He drew her up and her feet slid down to stand on the tops of his, but he kept her in his arms and her own were around him. She thought that if he wasn't some Norse superhero than she might have possibly broken a rib or two with the death grip hug she had on him.

"I missed you, " she whispered finally.

His arms tightened around her. "And I you, Jane Foster."

Jane couldn't believe she was clinging to him like some desperate teenager, but she also found she never wanted to let go. She didn't know how she'd landed Thor, but she knew she was never letting go. He was stuck with her, for better or for worse and she'd find him or die trying.

Thor picked her up again and she rewound her legs around his hips, mashing her face into the crook of his neck and trying to memorize the feeling of him against her. He snagged the duvet from her bed and wound it around them. He opened the door to the trailer and she found that her little trailer, or what passed for it in her 'dream', was floating in a vast sea of stars. Thor carried her up to the top of the trailer and settled down on top of it and together they watched the silence of the Universe around them twinkle like millions of tiny fireflies. Stars were born and died in the space of minutes, and the celestial bodies danced and boiled slowly around her trailer like a giant cosmic ocean.

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"Jane..HEY JANE!"

She woke, groggily registering that someone was shouting at her and it was most unwelcome. Something landed on her bed like an ungainly bowling ball and catapulted her onto her cold floor. When her cheek met the chilly tile of the floor of her trailer she knew she was awake, and whatever moment in time that she and Thor had shared if it was even real and not a figment of her imagination, was gone for good.

"Ugh." Jane hauled herself to her feet to come face to face with Darcy's overly chipper visage.

"Natasha was worried something had happened to you when you didn't show for work," Darcy said, breaking into Jane's stash of strawberry poptarts, "but you look fine to me."

"Yeah..." Jane rubbed at her forehead and moved off towards her bathroom. Her migrane was gone, but she wanted to pop some painkillers and head it off just in case it decided to come back.

"Hey Jane, nice quilt, where'd you get it?"

Darcy's words were like cold water down her spine and she was instantly awake and looking back at her bed. The familiar crimson red duvet was tangled across her bed like someone had decided to upend a paint can over her sheets.

She decided to forgo the painkillers, and ended up wearing her duvet over her pajamas to work like a over sized burnous. No one asked why she attacked her work with the same zeal she had years ago when she'd first started the Einstein-Rosen Bridge Project, they just mainly got out of her way. Jane didn't care a jot as frightened interns scattered out of her way left and right as she darted from computer to computer, rewriting programs and calculating complex astronomical algorithms. Jane Foster was back in business.

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_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2  Assistants and Setbacks

**Author's Note:**_ I decided to continue the story, please continue to let me know what you think! _

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 2:** Assistants and Setbacks

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"Do you think it's possible that that thing could make you sterile?"

Jane pulled her head out of the computer compartment of her latest attempt at rebuilding the Einstein-Rosen bridge so fast she conked her noggin on the frame. Darcy was perched precariously on top of the giant computer's steel casing above her and munching a sandwich. Jane stared at her. Where had _that_ come from? There were more important things to consider, such as whether or not the thing she was building was going to be a success or a giant death trap.

"What?"

Darcy gestured with her sandwich, and two pieces of lettuce and a pickle flew off and landed smack on Jane's portable keyboard.

Jane picked soggy vegetables out of her keyboard and glared up at her. "I doubt it. The numbers said it was safe. Why exactly is this coming up now?"

Darcy carefully considered her sandwich. "Because aren't Vikings concerned with the whole first born male heir thing?"

Jane choked in surprise and dropped her keyboard, face turning a spectacular shade of red. "Wait- what- you…That is- DARCY!"

Darcy looked at her smugly. "Oh ho ho, so you've thought about it."

"No! That isn't the issue, it's- I can't believe I'm even having this conversation," Jane muttered.

Jane bent back over the computer's innards checking and rechecking her equipment. There could be no margin for error. Not when her calculations decided on whether someone would materialize all the way a couple billion light years away. It wouldn't do for a few arms and a foot to end up in Asgard instead of an entire person. She hated to admit it, but part of the reason driving her to complete perfection was not only the desired success of the mission but the fear of looking like an absolute bonehead in front of Thor's entire race. No, mistakes would not be tolerated.

Darcy hopped down from her perch, having finished the last of her sandwich. "Seriously, that thing emits too much radiation."

"Well what would you suggest?" Jane said, hands on her hips, "It's not like I can fix it now."

Darcy grinned and waggled her eyebrows. "Well you could always-"

"Don't you dare even finish that sentence. I told you, this is not about that!"

"Suuure. Whatever you say, Boss Lady," Darcy said.

It was quiet for a moment.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure it's important your baby maker works. The Vikings were all about the boys."

"DARCY!"

Darcy dodged the wire cutters Jane threw at her, laughing. She left, still cheerfully shouting dirty jokes involving astrophysicists and thunder gods over her shoulder.

Jane slammed the computer back together and surveyed her work. She still had misgivings about the whole thing, feeling that she was in no way ready but Phil Coulson was pressuring her to get results and she knew Nick Fury was in turn leaning on him. There was still things missing, connections that she felt she should have been able to complete. The project was approved to go ahead though, and there wasn't anything she could have done about it.

Jane stared up at the Einstein-Rosen-Foster Propulsion System that towered over the six hundred and forty acre lot it rested on.

She winced. What a terrible name.

Not only was it a mouthful, but it looked stupid welded to the casing of the machine in giant purple letters. It had been Darcy's idea. Jane supposed she had been trying to make her feel better, as Darcy knew Jane was upset still about the fact that her research would never see the light of day. But still, giant purple letters? And such a headache of a sentence? Not to mention when the fusion reactor itself was powered up the sickly pastel blue of the energy crackling through the rings clashed horribly with the violent purple.

The craft itself was massive, rising twelve stories above the ground in a large disc shape a few miles wide.

Tony Stark had supplied a new Arc Reactor capable of generating the power needed to access a world a few galaxies away. Jane had only developed the equations required to make the journey and she did not like not knowing a jot about the explosive power that would basically be strapped to her butt and fire her across the universe. Tony Stark was brilliant, but he was also bat shit insane. Who knew where she'd end up? Her calculations were correct, but really, who knew? She could end up at Asgard's doorstep, or she could end up inside a ice block in Jotunheim.

If she even got to go. She was petitioning hard to join the group making the trip, but for some reason Erik had cut her out.

Erik's behavior had become increasingly erratic in the days since Thor's departure, when he defeated the Destroyer and disappeared into the Bifrost. Erik would start to have conversations with himself, argue, and mumble to himself about things that didn't make sense.

He'd started to even play mind games with her and the crew around them.

Little things at first, but then they got cruel. Jane shivered. Sometimes she even wondered if it was even Erik she was talking to.

The look in his eyes, the way he talked, she wondered if the pressure had broken him or maybe it was something else. In any case, it wouldn't do any good hashing it out. Erik had gotten off of her team a few months into the project and rocketed so high up the importance ladder that she wondered if there was something else going on, not just the Avengers Initiative.

Jane sighed. Things were so much more complicated now, then when she had just graduated college and had started sending her research papers to scientific journals. Those were the days. Things were simple, and clear cut.

She looked up into the darkening sky. The sun was retreating into the desert floor and the wind was already becoming chilly. Stars were beginning to twinkle in their deep velvet back drop, and the purple was gradually fading to an all encompassing black. It was strikingly beautiful, and a little bit sad.

"Goodnight," she whispered, "I miss you."

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><p>.x.<p>

Heimdall sighed when he noticed his young liege striding towards him with a determined glint in his eye, and knew exactly what was going to happen next. They'd done this dance for over two of Midgard's cycles now, and while he was a bit annoyed at the same questions over and over again he also praised Thor's tenacity. The young god had never kept a woman this long before.

They went through the familiar niceties of greetings, and stood together at the shattered edge of the Bifrost and looked out over the edge into the forever of the Universe.

"Is all well?" Thor asked after a long pause.

They both knew what he was talking about, no sense in beating around the bush.

Heimdall once again marveled at the young god's changed demeanor before answering, he even asked for things more politely. He wondered briefly what this mortal was that had changed the rowdy Thunder God so drastically. She was either incredibly bull headed, or she'd just plain worn him down. Before, if he'd been asked, he wouldn't have ever said it was possible.

"All is well. She still searches for you, and her zeal is …rather impressive."

Thor chuckled quietly.

Heimdall shook his head. Whatever that meant. It was a personal joke, and he suspected that he didn't want to know.

"What is her progress on her machine?" Thor asked.

Heimdall sighed almost imperceptivity. He had hoped Thor wouldn't ask, as he hated having to give the new answer that things did not bode well for the mortal Jane Foster, but the young god always did ask. Thor would find out sooner or later, and Heimdall knew that he'd found some way to visit his lady. Heimdall didn't know what Thor had had to pay to visit her, but he knew it had to have been costly. There were very few that had the power to get a vision to a mortal in Midgard, and those that did would ask him to sacrifice dearly. That's why Heimdall consented to answer his questions rotation after rotation, cycle after cycle. Thor was wracking up a terrible price with whomever was allowing him to visit Jane Foster; Thor did not need Heimdall's refusal to answer questions adding to that weight.

Not that he wouldn't answer anyway, he amended. Thor would be his Lord and King, soon enough. The thunder god had already earned Heimdall's respect long ago.

"Her machine is complete, though it will fail," Heimdall said bluntly.

Thor looked away from the starts he had been contemplating, as though he could perhaps see Jane among them, and turned back to the Bifrost's Gaurdian.

"Explain, please."

Heimdall marveled again at the 'please'.

"She is extraordinarily brilliant for a mortal and her calculations appear to be correct enough to get her to an area we can retrieve her from. However, the machine their deranged tin man built will not be strong enough to get her anywhere close. There was a time when it was hidden from my view, and we both know what that means."

Thor chewed his bottom lip, brow furrowed. "What will happen when they turn it on?"

"From what I can tell, it will interact with the Bifrost, which will not have enough power to support itself. It will not be stable and the immanent destruction will be devastating," Heimdall told him.

Thor said nothing, and Heimdall did not envy the young god the pain of knowing that the woman he loved was going to die and not be able to do anything to stop it. It must be maddening to know that there was an enemy he could not vanquish, a problem he could not solve simply by using Mjolnir to bash things into submission.

They stood there for a long time, looking out over the vastness of space, before Thor turned and strode back down the Bifrost towards Asgard's Keep. It struck Heimdall then that the young god was conspicuously missing his trademark red cloak.

He chuckled. How amusing. Perhaps Jane Foster had more of an influence than she realized. Too bad she wouldn't live to see it; such a pity.

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><p>.x.<p>

Jane took her time collecting herself and making sure her papers were in order outside of Nick Fury's office before she knocked.

While she wasn't afraid of him, per se, she did feel that it took some extra composure before she went and presented her research presentation and project information to the leader of the Avengers. She raised her hand to tap gingerly at the heavy door, wondering rather belatedly if she should have left Thor's cloak in her trailer. It did give her an air like she'd just rolled out of bed wearing a giant snoogie. She had been wearing it around the research facility and the ESRF construction area so often now that she'd forget putting it on in the mornings, and it would be there around her like a second skin.

"As much as I like a woman who takes time to prepare herself for my company, I can only wait so long," he shouted from behind the door, and the door in no way muffled the boom of his voice.

Jane smacked herself in the forehead. Idiot, she thought. Fury had an uncanny ability to sense his underlings lurking and she supposed that she was no different. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

"Sir, I-" she started.

He interrupted her. "You're here about the space ship Stark built in the desert, correct?"

_'The inter-dimensional space vessel I designed and programed,_' Jane thought, but didn't correct him. One didn't argue with Nick Fury. She merely nodded and stood waiting, fists clenching Thor's cloak.

Fury's eyes had glided over her choice in attire with a well directed stink eye when she entered the room, but he didn't choose to comment.

"What do you want Ms. Foster?"

Jane wanted to scream and smack his shiny bald head. They both knew why she was there.

She took a deep breath. "I want to be part of the team that makes the expedition to Asgard."

"No."

Jane felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She'd worked years for this. And now they were telling her no? She'd always assumed that she'd automatically be part of the project. She'd practically built the project from the ground up. The whole damn contraption was based on her original research. And now they were telling her no? Now she wanted to scream, and if she did she wouldn't stop at his bald noggin either. He'd be missing his other eye if she had anything to say about it.

But what she calmly said was, "No? I- I thought that since-"

He cut her off. "Ms. Foster, it is my belief that an operative who is too close to an assignment can compromise the entire mission. You are too close to this."

Jane just stared at him. She had nothing left. Fury, seeing her face, sighed and folded his hands onto his desk. He quirked a finger at one of the fold up chairs in front of his desk and she sank into it, still not completely processing the fact that she'd been cut off from something that had basically been her life for over two years.

"Alright Ms. Foster, I'll level with you. I still think you're too close to this, but long story short. You've been ousted. Erik has seniority over this project due to his credentials and contributions. I'm sorry Ms. Foster, but you and your team are not going on this expedition," he informed her briskly.

Jane felt like she was being hit with too many sucker punches at once. Once she thought she was recovering and getting back up from the last blow, he'd hit her with something again.

"What?" She couldn't believe it. Erik was her friend, her mentor. He'd taught her everything she knew. How could he do this to her?

"I'm sorry, Ms Foster."

Fury turned back to the paperwork on his desk and Jane knew then that the conversation was at an end. She shakily stood from the chair she'd been slumped in, clutching Thor's cloak about her like it was a life raft in a storm. There had been a hole in her heart that until now that she thought she was going to be able to fill, but- now? It wasn't like she could ask the team going to Asgard to pretty please ask the son of the head honcho of all of the Viking gods if he still liked the nerdy little scientist or not. Ugh, stupid. She wanted nothing more than to retreat to her trailer and dig cake batter ice cream out of her freezer and gain ten pounds. She felt like she was spiraling at the drop of hat and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She had to get out of there.

Jane blew through the door and almost bulldozed over Pepper Potts who'd been standing outside Fury's door, clutching her own sheaf of paperwork and clearly waiting her own turn.

"I'm sorry," Jane muttered, turning her face away so yet another member of the Avengers would not see what a baby she was.

Pepper cleared her throat politely, "I couldn't help but overhear, I'm sorry, but if you'd like to watch from the observatory tomorrow with Tony and I, you're welcome to."

Jane smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

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><p>.x.<p>

It was the day of reckoning.

The damn travel space wheel would either work or it wouldn't. So much effort and time put into it, Jane wished just as hard for the project to be a success even if she was not among the ones going on what she considered to be the greatest adventure of her lifetime. Tony Stark was dressed for the occasion in a sharp suit that was most likely worth a lot more than Jane could ever hope to make in a few lifetimes and some shockingly purple sunglasses, while Pepper stood next to him in a prim and proper grey pencil skirt with matching black heels and blouse.

Jane went through the niceties of greeting with them but all her attention, all her focus was on the ESRF machine below them.

That thing was her life. All her hopes and dreams, all that she was and all that she'd accomplished had been poured into that machine. It would either be a success that no one would ever know about, or it would be a death trap that no one would ever know about. It was the moment of truth. Jane saw the twelve men and women who had been chosen to make the journey enter the eye of the Arc Reactor. Theoretically the Arc would do its thing and then her equipment would create the initial wormhole and then the Arc would power it from there.

Jane watched the leader of the expedition, and extrordinarily fat and ugly man named Keith Kincaid, give the ESRF igition operator the thumbs up. The operator in turn tapped equations into the computer, the codes that Jane herself had written.

The Arc Reactor thrummed as it powered up.

Energy moved through the Arc's coils, the coils themselves glowing a brilliant blue as they started humming faster and faster. Jane almost forgot to breath as the wormhole began to form over the now brilliantly shining Arc Reactor. The twelve scientists were now barely visible as the event horizon of the vortex formed above them. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

The vortex looked like sunlight behind molten glass. She knew the light was just an optical illusion on the event horizon, but it was still astonishingly beautiful.

Then the vortex began to oscillate, fading in and out. The Arc Reactor fluctuated, trying desperately to compensate for the massive power draw the wormhole was demanding.

The technitions and engineers around them began to shout, running this way and that. Tony Stark shoved an unfortunate techie out of his console and began to type furiously while yelling directions at the rest of them. Jane knew it was useless, knew they were done for. The wormhole couldn't be shut off once it had been created. They'd basically opened a rip in the fabric of space, all that energy had to go somewhere. When the reactor blew, which it would it was inevitable, it would immediately incinerate the surrounding area and beyond. There was no way they could get away in time.

"No," Jane whispered. This could not be happening. She couldn't believe she'd never get to see Thor again, never hear his voice.

It should have worked.

She thanked her lucky stars that Darcy and the rest of the team weren't there, but partying in the city a long ways away. Ironically enough they were celebrating the success and completion of the mission. Oh well, she was going to die, but at least they were safe.

Jane and Pepper stood there, watching the reactor finally give up the battle and spark and emit a blinding flash of white light. It was over. Tony Stark swore furiously over the screaming of the people around them, yelling at someone named Jarvis.

She faintly registered Stark hitting something on his wrist and his Iron Man suit melded seamlessly over his body, but all she could think was '_where did I go wrong? Where was my mistake?'_

As the blinding white flames roared towards the observatory, turning rocks to dust and obliterating whatever happened to be in its path, Jane shook herself from her stupor. She didn't exactly know why she did it, but she flung Thor's cloak over herself and Pepper and Iron Man's armored body flattened them seconds later, covering as much of them as he could.

For a split second she breathed in the scent of rain and ozone, and her eyes met Pepper's frightened own inches away from hers in the dark.

One heartbeat's time. Then the world exploded in a loud roar and white hot pain.

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3 Failure and Betrayal

**Author's Note:** _Oh my god I love you guys! Thanks for all the reviews! They mean the world to me and they keep me writing! Thanks for all the reassurance about the whole Kincaid and Sif thing. _

_Anyway, THANK YOU for the reviews! You guys are awesome! I love the input!_

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing..._.

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**Chapter 3:** Failure and Betrayal

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Jane stumbled to her feet, head ringing, at all she could think was that she'd ruined the cloak, the only thing she had that was left of Thor.

It was lying on the charred ground like a scarlet pool of blood. The red cloak had drastically been reduced in size, the edges brown and crumbly and brittle. She was relieved to see it still retained its brilliant crimson color from where Stark had landed on it, however. Jane clutched it to her and buried her nose in it. The comforting scent of summer storm rain and lightning flooded her senses and she felt herself calming down.

Gradually her brain reasserted her priorities and she looked blearily around for Pepper and Stark. They were a short distance away. She stumbled towards them, then put her hand up to the side of her head and it came away red and sticky.

Stark's metal armor was singed black, smoking and popping and he was clutching Pepper who had one slim hand on his metal shoulder. She was coughing hard. His face mask had retracted and his human face, pale and drawn, looked down at Pepper like there was nothing else left in his world but her.

In an uncharacteristic display of gentle affection Stark cradled her close and brushed a straggled bit of ginger hair back behind Pepper's ear.

Jane turned away, walking a few paces from them, giving them their privacy and not wanting to intrude. It had been a huge rumor around the Avengers' offices that there was something going on between bad boy business mogul Tony Stark and his quiet and demur assistant Pepper Potts. She wouldn't have believed it, but looking at the way Stark carefully helped Pepper to her feet, both her hands in his metal one and his other supporting the small of her back, it looked surprisingly natural.

Her eyes burned. The way no one would have believed a Thunder God would come back for a skinny little lab rat. Then she mentally smacked herself. She was done feeling sorry for herself. She'd done all she could, no one would have asked anything else of her.

Jane stumbled through the blowing dust and acrid charred air, and nearly fell off the side of the side of the massive crater, all that remained of the research station and the ESRF Project.

She looked out over the giant smoking hole, smoke burning her eyes and choking her lungs. Her throat felt raw, like someone had taken dirty sandpaper and run it up and down her esophagus a couple of times.

There was literally nothing left. Everything was gone. The desert floor was blasted smooth and the center of the crater glinted like glass. Jane supposed it probably_ was_ glass. The blast might have been hot enough to nuke the sand, and when everything cooled it would have become glass-like. It was like a great mass gravestone, marking all the lives that had been lost.

The glass disc would certainly stand the test of time in the ages to come, if man didn't trash it first. She would do her best to see that they didn't. This could not be allowed to be forgotten.

"I got us out after the initial shock wave and before the blast," Tony said, he and Pepper coming up to stand next to her.

That explained the busted rocket boosters on his feet. Jane was grateful he'd got them out in time. She touched Thor's cloak and again marveled that it had survived so well. Mostly it hadn't even been touched save for the outer edges. It struck her then, for the first time, that Thor and his people really weren't human. They had different technologies, different ways of looking at the universe. Even their clothes were made of different fabrics. She'd thought it was a heavy soft wool.

Well the blast had certainly proved her wrong. The only bright part about this was she certainly wasn't going to be hand washing it in the tub with Woolite anymore. The damn thing was going into the normal wash with the rest of her clothes. It could survive a Stark sized explosion, then it could survive a normal spin cycle.

They looked out over the smoking crater, all three sporting equal expressions of shock and horror.

"They're all dead, all of them," Pepper whispered.

Tony gripped her tighter and Jane could hear him murmur something into Pepper's ear.

"Jarvis called for an evac," he said out loud, eyes on the smoke tarnished sky, "They should be here any minute."

Jane said nothing.

All those people, dead, and no one would know their sacrifice. The incident would probably be blamed on a brush fire. All dead because of her mistake. Or was it even her mistake? She'd checked and checked her calculations and her research. She'd been going over the numbers for a year. There was no way she could have made a mistake, even if the project was rushed.

Her brow furrowed. What then? All the evidence if it had been something other than an unfortunate accident had been obliterated into dust along with everything else. Sabotage perhaps? And who would even _do_ such a thing?

Stark gripped her arm, clearly misreading the look on her face.

"Hey," he said, shaking her, "Keep it together. We need to figure out what went wrong. We need you to stay on this. Can you do that?"

Jane looked at him. She had lives lost to atone for. She'd have to face those people in the afterlife, and she'd be damned if she had nothing to show for it.

"Yes."

"That's more like it."

Gradually they began to hear the heavy _whump whump_ of rotors coming towards them. Not long after, two Boeing CH-47 Chinook helicopters carrying rescue teams and Avengers personal materialized over the horizon coming straight for them.

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><p>.x.<p>

"What the hell happened?"

Nick Fury was bellowing, sending frightened orderlies scattering in every direction, as he charged into Jane's hospital room like a large rampaging animal bent on flattening a village or a small city.

Darcy was quietly following him, carefully staying out of the way of the fallout but still close enough to where Jane could see her making faces at Fury behind his back, clearly attempting to lighten Jane's situation if her boss was in trouble. She was toting a huge vase of flowers, followed by a virtual army of nurses carrying more of the same.

Fury looked incredulously at Darcy and the flowers that were being placed around the room, making it look like a bizarre botanical garden of the hospital variety.

He chose not to comment, however, when Darcy looked around and fixed him with a laser stare as though daring to volunteer an opinion on how many flowers she'd brought a sick girl. Darcy may have been a political science major, but the Avengers flunkies had learned the hard way not to argue with her.

Jane winced when she felt Fury's attention land on her again and wondered briefly where Tony and Pepper could have got to. She wished they hadn't left her to deal with Nick Fury on her own, that was just plain mean.

He was still yelling furiously. Hadn't missed a beat.

The only thing missing from the rampaging ferocious animal metaphor was the fur. Fury had everything else, from the wild eyes to the spray of spit with every furious word.

It was a very good possibility that the entire hospital could hear him. She winced at the thought of whatever verbal smack down he had for her being heard by every single patient and hospital employee at Bright Morning Medical Hospital. Jane finally talked herself into it and finally got the courage to look up from the doctor scrubbing dirt and debris out of her various cuts and lacerations, to her furious boss (still shouting) headed straight for her like a shark for a seal.

Jane, realizing she was clad in nothing but a pale blue paper hospital gown that gave the world a spectacular view of her ass, looked wildly around for a robe. Her white butt had already been seen by three nurses and a doctor, she didn't need the leader of the Avengers to know which parts of her had never seen the sun either.

Pepper rescued her, fortunately, appearing out of a closet, shrugging on a fuzzy white robe that looked like an entire cotton field had been slaughtered to make it. She handing Jane another fuzzy robe with a sympathetic smile.

"We had millions of dollars go into that project, and there were over a hundred people at the site, what happened?" Fury demanded.

"I don't know," Jane said.

She'd been going over that in her head since she'd woken up in the hospital. Once she'd been able to bully an orderly into getting her her notes she'd checked and double checked them. Her math was correct. There was no error. Her next thought was maybe Stark's machine had been the issue. The wormhole had fluctuated erratically, drawing more power than it looked like the reactor could have supplied.

Once she got rid of Fury, anyway, she was going to hunt Tony Stark down and get his notes out of him. He couldn't weasel his way out of it if he was still under doctor observation.

Nick Fury sighed, massaging his temples, "I meant what I said about you being too close, but now you're the only one left that knows anything about what's going on. You're in charge of the investigation. What you find, no matter what it is, goes to me."

Jane nodded. The explosion was her responsibility. She'd fix it, no matter what it took. "I understand, sir."

Pepper sat down on a flimsy plastic chair next to Jane's bed, a pad of paper in her hand and taking notes for her absentee boss. Jane envied the way she could make her white bathrobe and slippers look like a classy outfit just off the runway. Pepper made elegant look effortless. She could have easily been some sort of elven queen straight out the Tolkien verse'. She set her notepad down halfway Fury's tirade. Jane didn't quite see why, then she heard the giggling of nurses outside the door.

That could only mean one thing.

Stark came striding in, clad in the same paper gown as Jane though clearly he didn't have the same modesty issues. As he turned to wave goodbye to the group of tittering and surprisingly busty nurses he gave all three of the room's occupants a good look at his backside.

Jane snorted quietly.

If she'd learned anything from her encounters from Fury over the years, then Stark had just made a huge mistake. The trouble with Stark was he never learned from the burning in the confrontations with his cantankerous boss. Jane wondered whether he poked the metaphorical bear in the eye with a stick on purpose. Probably. Stark obviously loved drama and confusion, and he was probably reveling in Fury's irritation. That is, if the ear to ear shit eating grin he was sporting had anything to say about it.

Fury's lip curled but he obviously knew that encouraging Tony Stark would just make it worse. "Stark, you and Jane are figuring this thing out. Find out what went wrong. I'm giving you Natasha, just in case."

"Yes mother." Stark saluted him jauntily, paper dress flapping wide open. Jane covered her eyes with her hand. Dear god.

Pepper rolled her eyes at his antics and sighed. "Just in case, sir? You think there might be something else-"

Fury interrupted her, "There's always something else. We'll find it, and we'll deal with it."

Fury turned at the door and pointed back at Jane. "And Stark- I want a sample of that damn cape. Get it analyzed. It's the only reason Jane and Pepper aren't dust blowing around the desert with the rest of those unfortunate souls."

Stark blinked and put his hands on his hips, robe still wide open. "My protecting skills failed? No! Say it isn't true, that Ken Barbie beat me with his wardrobe!"

Fury rolled his eyes and left, slamming the door behind him.

Darcy emerged from one of Jane's many bouquets where she'd been sniffing roses energetically. She leaned towards her boss and whispered loudly, "Do you think he knows that no one cares his junk his showing?"

Pepper patted Darcy's shoulder and put a finger to her lips, "Shh. You'll spoil it for him."

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><p>.x.<p>

It was getting dark outside when Jane finally closed the door to her room behind Pepper, Stark, and Darcy.

Darcy had brought her some black gym pants and a tank top to replace the paper dress she'd been waltzing around in all day. Jane tugged the top of her soft cotton pants up to rest on her hips, a welcome relief from the hospital clip together paper gown. She tightened the drawstring on her pants and wiggled her toes happily. It was peacefully quiet. She sank down onto the edge of her bed and put her head back, eyes closed. For a moment she enjoyed the evening breeze coming through her window as it slid through her hair and brushed the back of her neck.

Jane couldn't help it. Her thoughts drifted to the man that had stolen her heart away and wouldn't give it back, her Thunder God. She wondered what he was up to. So many worlds apart, she wondered whether he was thinking of her. She certainly couldn't stop thinking of him. She felt that the little time they'd had together, she'd found her other half. Stupid and impossible as it sounded, Thor had made her _feel_, had awoken something in her that she had never thought possible.

Jane had never considered herself to be the sort of woman who dropped everything for a man, but Thor made her lose all sense.

When she'd first run him over in the middle of the lightning storm, she thought he was going to be her meal ticket. Her science experiment and her lab rat that she would get to poke and prod at and make herself a name off of. But Thor had rapidly turned into something more. His smile, that wicked grin. His voice.

Thor made her feel like a school girl, to which romance and love was still happiness and butterflies, and not the jaded crap that her adult mind knew it to be.

They'd connected. When he looked at her she felt like she was the only woman in the world. He made her feel like she was special, important, more than a no name scientist. Thor had earned her respect, and her heart. He'd turned from a petulant brat with a stupid accent hell bent on getting his own way, to someone willing to take the time to listen to her and take care of her even when his own world was crashing down around him.

She loved him, she realized with a start. She didn't exactly know when it had happened, couldn't point at one specific moment that was the turning point, but she knew what he meant to her. She loved him, from his killer grin and blue eyes to the gentle way he held her, and the way he was willing to sacrifice himself without thought for a people he'd barely known.

Jane got up and fisted her hands in her hair with a groan.

What a mess. It wasn't like she could tell him how she felt, even if he wasn't dimensions away. He was the freaking Thunder God for crying out loud, not to mention the heir to the Asgard throne.

They probably had some prissy fur clad princess with a faux British accent to be his intended, or something of the like. It was a depressing thought.

Jane strode to the mirror on the wall and looked at her reflection.

Staring back at her was a girl with straggly brown hair that hadn't been brushed, a too thin face and wide brown eyes. Various taped cuts and stitches littered her skin, a clear reminder of being blown up the day before. She poked at one of her stitches. Jane wondered if there was any cake batter ice cream left. She'd seen Darcy leave a small tub in the mini fridge, and she was going to have to break into it. She stared at morosely her reflection a long, long time.

And almost jumped out of her skin when her green eyed reflection quirked a little smile at her.

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4 Scares and Reuniting

**Author's Note:** _Here we go again! I'm hoping to tie in as much Norse Mythology is I can while still staying true to the Marvel Universe. Fair warning: this chapter may be a little creepy. I'm trying to update every couple of days, but that will become increasingly harder as my summer classes pick up. College hurts my brain but I want to graduate soon. Oh well._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing. I think that will suffice, creepy mirror people are so over done I can't actually say I don't own every single scary film/book ever made. So, here is my resounding 'I own nothing!'_

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**Chapter 4:** Scares and Reuniting

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Jane flung herself back from the mirror, landing hard on the cold tile floor.

She winced as she felt some of her various stitches stretch and send out sharp stabs of pain but her eyes never left her reflection's green ones. Those wide green eyes, perfectly round in that white face that looked like her own, wouldn't let her look away. She could feel her heart fluttering in her chest as the adrenaline from the panic and fear flooded her body. The mirror held her in thrall. Her reflection had remained standing when she fell, and as she watched, Mirror Jane put her hands her hips and cocked her head.

"Lookit you," her reflection said, clucking a long, pointed, and fleshy tongue, "So this is what captures a god's attention these days. I must say, you're not what I expected."

Jane lay there prone, unable to tear her eyes away from the reflection in the mirror.

The refection's wide grin opened wider still, finally displaying rows upon rows of small pointed and shiny white teeth. Jane thought she was going to be sick, seeing her own face stretch like that, and those bottomless green eyes. They were sink holes in that horrible face, weighing the skin in like bowling balls on a trampoline. It was her own face, and yet it was like something was behind it, wearing her skin like a latex mask that didn't fit right.

The result was sickening.

Mirror Jane, at seeing her growing horror, grinned wider. The reflection paced back and forth, still watching her like some sort of eldritch demon come to make good on her soul. And perhaps it was. Jane knew that the explosion at the ESRF site had been partly her fault though her calculations had been correct; if she hadn't been so head over heels for a man that was completely out of her league, she would have never pushed to build the damn thing.

The Mirror Jane obviously sensed her weakening. It moved closer, putting its long pale hands on the glass, and she wondered then if it could get through at her or if the mirror contained it. She did not want to find out.

"Jane Foster, you've been a busy girl." It no longer even sounded like her, but like thousands of voices all speaking at once in a hissing whisper.

The sounds echoed around the room, and something slimy brushed against her hand, making her jump. She looked around wildly for whatever had touched her and fancied she could see shadows that weren't quite shadows slithering through the dark parts of the hospital room. Faces that made her stomach ill when her brain tried to process them peeked out her from the shadows around the furniture, and something with red eyes was sliding through her sweater hung over the back of a chair.

"What- who are you?" Jane finally asked, voice cracking. She swallowed, trying to get control of herself.

"What am I?" Her, -it, began to pace. "What am I…I am the people you have killed, disappointed."

Jane reeled back, hands slipping on the cold floor, until she hit the wall. "What, no, no I-"

Behind her mirror self figures appeared, the mutilated and burned remnants of the victims at the ESRF site. So many bodies that they filled up the mirror and spilled over into every reflective surface in the room. They were all staring at her, accusing, the eyeless holes in their broken faces weighed on her like weights.

Jane trembled, pale, and tried to make herself as small as possible but it was no good. She couldn't get away from them, they were everywhere, slipping in and out of the room and always watching. She looked back at the horrible visage of the mirror self, fully intending to argue with it again, to convince it as much as herself to leave her in peace.

It was gone.

It had slid from the mirror when she wasn't looking and her gaze spun wildly around the room, and then she screamed when she found that face inches from her own and reflected in the shiny metal of the door. Grinning, always grinning so wide the flesh was stretched over the bone. She flung herself back so hard she cracked her head on the metal post of her bed. Jan ran her fingers through her hair and her hand came away bloody. She'd torn her stitches. Her brain faintly registered the hope that she hadn't given herself another concussion.

Her terrified gaze fell back on the door and she wanted to be sick when the thing had switched faces; it was now her ex boyfriend's face staring back at her.

Donald Blake had been a doctor she'd run into when she'd had to go to the ER after breaking her arm from falling off of the roof of her van on one of her observation nights. The relationship had gone from zero to sixty, and she'd thought that she'd finally found someone who could look at her and really see her. She'd thought they'd connected, that it was going somewhere, but it was just the last in a long series of failed relationships and broken hearts.

His crooked smile was still the same, and those dark grey blue eyes with the familiar laugh lines looked mockingly down at her where she was crouched on the floor. It struck her, then, how much he resembled Thor. The same broad shoulders, though Thor's hair was a lighter blond. The same stubble smattering the jawline, the same arms that looked like they would fit in better at a logging camp rather than a hospital. They could have been brothers.

God, she was sick.

"Get a good look, Jane Foster. Who would want you? I didn't, and your precious Thunder God never returned for you, did he? Looks like he doesn't want you either. You've got blood on your hands, every single one of those people that died because of the little love boat you built. Such a shame. You're in deep, Dove," Blake said, pressing his face as close to hers as the door would let him.

Jane put her hands over her face, shaking her head slowly. Her fingers dug into her head, blood stained her fingers. She was oblivious, however, occupied only with shutting out the man that had broken her heart's voice. It rang in her head and his mocking face danced behind her eyelids even though her eyes were clenched tightly shut.

"Look at me, and all the people you murdered," he cajoled, voice lilting and full of contempt.

She looked up, finally, fingers leaving bloody trails on her cheeks that her tears ran through and turned into fine red filaments. The mirror ghosts of the victims pressed in around him and she felt bile rising in the back of her throat at the sight of their ruined faces smashing against him and each other.

Her eyes found Blake's horrible green ones. "I didn't kill anyone! It was for-"

Blake's doppelganger interrupted her. "Science? The betterment of your stilly little race? Or something else…someone else, perhaps?"

He laughed at her, and it was oddly high pitched for Blake's large body. That settled it. It wasn't Blake. Something was wearing his skin like a costume and it was using her nightmares to torture her.

"Go away," she shouted, "Leave me alone!"

Jane forced herself to run to the window on the door despite the fact that she'd be pressing her stomach and hands against the surface the thing was using to torture her through. "Help! Someone help me."

She screamed until she was hoarse, slamming her bloody hands against the window panes. The glass streaked, her blood shining like black ink in the darkened room. There was no one at the nurses' station, though, and the hospital was cold and dark and silent, save for the voice.

She was alone.

Blake giggled. "The thing is, Dove, you've got to atone. You really think Asgard's golden boy would ever want a little Earthling like you? You're just playtime, a summer fling. He's set up to inherit everything. Chances are he forgot about you the moment he set foot in his glittering palace."

"Please, stop. STOP," Jane shouted.

She hurled one of the plastic chairs at the door and it shattered the window. The door dented in and the glass from the tiny little window littered the tile floor in shiny little shards that glinted in the faint light. It did nothing to stop the mirror wraiths, though. They continued to hiss at her, jeer at her mercilessly.

"Why didn't you check your research? I died! Because you!" one wailed, and something gave her hair a hard yank.

Her temples throbbed and her vision swam. The pain in her head was almost unbearable.

"You're not dead, none of you died!" she told them, fists clenched and trying desperately to hold it together.

Her will was slowly fraying. They were wearing her down with their faces and whispers, and their nails on chalkboard voices. She was slowly but surely but going mad. She was sinking into the rising darkness and drowning, and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it.

"We did. And you killed us," they whispered, crowding in on her.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," Jane sobbed.

The door opened behind her and she flung herself away from it, expecting the worst. It was Erik, and she breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes were oddly glassy and his mouth was open in a slack line, but she was so relieved to see a real person that didn't have their face hanging off in a burned mash that she didn't care.

"Erik! Erik! Thank god, you have to help me! There's something-" she stopped, noticed finally the expression on his face, then began to back up slowly, "No, no, please don't."

"Hello Jane. You were my most promising student, it's a shame you have to go so quickly," he said, smiling at her like they were having a genial everyday conversation about the stars or the weather.

She noticed his hand then and the long glinting kitchen knife he held in his fist. The blade still had mashed potatoes on it from lunch.

"No, wait- stop, please don't do this!"

He moved towards her. "It's alright, Dove, he says it'll all be alright. Just lie still for me."

"No!"

Jane shoved her way past Erik, who made a snatch for her and missed. She careened past him to crash into the door. The door opened with a loud bang and she fell into the dark hallway, stumbling and then righting herself. Jane ran off into the darkness with Erik's heavy footsteps hot on her heels and the cold laughter of the thing wearing Blake's skin echoing after her.

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><p>.x.<p>

Loki was fairly beside himself with glee.

Jane Foster had a brain like a bowl full of jello. The chit was believing everything he told her. Her thoughts were his to shape and mold how he saw fit and he was quite pleased to have gotten her alone so quickly. A new plaything certainly helped his foul mood and sad exiled state. His current toy, the meat puppet Erik Selvig, was rapidly losing his interest. Initially he'd been a good toy and had held a wealth of knowledge about the rotten Terra planet. The man had been fun to corrupt but under years and years of Loki's influence had reduced his mind to mash. Not fun at all.

Jane Foster, though, was another playing field entirely. She held his dear brother's (here he snorted contemptuously, what a joke) heart, and also represented her entire race in his mind's eye. Thor loved this human woman so much, that Loki just couldn't help himself having a little fun with her.

He was going to break her, ride her and her stupid planet into the ground. The humans' entire world would burn and he would dance in the ashes and thumb his nose at the so called 'gods'.

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><p>.x.<p>

Heimdall turned when his sensitive ears caught the sound of heavy booted footsteps striding towards him. Thor's face, when he came into view, was pinched and drawn, and Heimdall felt a pang of pity for the young god. Being Asgard's heir was not easy, not to mention the All Father had the Thunder God in charge of most things, practice for when Thor would inevitably ascend to the throne. Thor sought his chamber long after the rest of Asgard had found sleep, and rose long before even the earliest riser. Such was the burden of rulers.

"You summoned me. What is it, my friend?" Thor asked, coming up to stand beside the Bifrost's Watcher.

"I cannot see her anymore," Heimdall said after a long pause.

Thor's heart sank. He knew exactly what that meant.

Loki.

Thor turned without a word and fairly ran back down the Bifrost. Heimdall watched him depart, then turned his farsight back onto the little Terra planet eyes still searching though he could not see her. He didn't know what his Lord was going to do, and he almost didn't want to know. Thor was going to pay a heavy price to save his little Jane Foster and Heimdall wasn't sure he could afford the cost.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Jane crouched in a janitor's closet, shaking, the handle of a good sturdy broom clutched in her white knuckled fists. Erik had paced past her hiding place several times now, calling her name and asking her to come out. He'd told her how sorry he was that she was so scared, that it was okay, that he was just playing.

_'The hell he was just playing, him and his creepy Donald muppet,'_ Jane thought.

Jane wondered rapidly what she was going to do. Erik was an old man and probably quite easy to incapacitate even though she had no self defense skills to speak of, but no matter how much she talked herself into it she didn't want to hurt the man she called friend. Dr. Erik Selvig had encouraged her to be the person she was today. Jane wouldn't have survived as a scientist without his encouragement and inspiration. She clenched the broom handle and closed her eyes as she listened to him walk down the hallway for the third or fourth time.

"Jane, come on out, Dove. You can't hide forever."

She had no idea what the hell she was going to do, or even if she's be able to get out. Her butt was starting to go numb and her heels were starting to complain loudly about the length of time they were being forced to squat on the floor. She rolled eyes, annoyed with herself, and shifted, trying to be quiet. That did it. If she got out of the stupid utility closet she'd get in shape if it was the last thing she ever did.

"Jane, are you in there?"

Erik's voice outside the door nearly had her jumping out of her skin. His silhouette was against the window and the door handle jiggled. Jane pressed herself into the back of the closet, tyring to make herself invisible. She'd stuck all of the cleaners and brooms and things up next to the door so that it wasn't locked or blocked, per se, but that when Erik opened it he'd only find and see all of the crap the closet was filled with. She hoped to death he wouldn't see her.

Jane held her breath.

And then his foot steps moved away down the hall again, still calling softly. She would have let out a breath in relief, but then that high pitched goblin giggle reminded her that the Donald thing was still out there, still looking for her as well.

Jane slumped against the back of the broom closet. She was trapped and there was no way out.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

"Jane?"

She didn't know how long she'd slept, but she jerked awake with a crack and knocked her head against the wall. Jane clutched her throbbing skull and hoped that she wasn't making herself stupid with all of the noggin conking and hoped dearly that Erik hadn't heard the noise she made. Speaking of noise, that voice had been right in the closet with her. Her eyes shot open and discovered that two brilliant blue ones that were inches from her own.

She opened her mouth to scream and a warm calloused hand promptly covered her mouth and squelched her yell. Her attacker leaned forward, into what little light there was, and she slumped in disbelief.

"Thor?"

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5 Hugs and Rescues

**Author's Note:** _Hey, you should totally check out my buddy Qilin's Loki fic, cus there may be a reason for it later, wink wink! Fun and good read!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 5:** Hugs and Rescues

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Thor was crouched awkwardly in the closet with her, and she wondered for a split second how someone of his size could even fit in the cramped little room to begin with. Then his thumb stroked her cheekbone and he gave her a little glimpse of that earth shattering grin he was so capable of.

"Jane," he whispered, bending in concern and carefully touching her stitches, "Are you well?"

For a moment she was so stunned at having him actually there, after all the years of nothing, that she couldn't say anything. Thor bent forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. Jane's eyes slid closed, and a slow shuddering sigh escaped her before Thor's mouth moved down to hers.

She kissed him slowly, still hardly believing that he was sitting in front of her. It sank in, however, with jolt that went straight down to her toes when he playfully nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. That caught her attention. Jane fairly jumped him, springing into his arms and nearly sending him crashing into the mop buckets. Thor caught her and held her tight. Jane could feel her sore body protesting at the grip he had on her but she didn't care. He was here now, and she wouldn't let him go even if she had to sit on him.

Thor pulled back first, but didn't release his grip on her. "What happened, Jane?"

Jane reeled back, finally remembering why she was in the closet in the first place and peeked out the crack in the closet door. "It's Erik, and there is something else out there. Come on, we've got to-"

Thor gently took her chin and turned her to face him.

"Go nowhere until I have assured myself that you are alright," he finished.

"But, Erik-"

"Can wait," he said firmly, " I will allow no harm to come to you. Please, tell me what's happened."

Jane slumped against him. "There was an accident at the ESRF project, the whole thing exploded. The wormhole was unstable, but for a moment it was going somewhere! But, then- all those people are dead because of my project. I let them down."

Thor said nothing, merely let her get it out of her system. She needed to vent before he could begin to help her.

His Jane Foster was one of the strongest people he knew, and once she'd had a moment to release all her frustration and fear, she could start to solve her problems herself. He certainly had been there. He'd had to figure that out himself the hard way: it had taken banishment and exile and defeat, along with a certain firecracker of a scientist before he'd discovered what was truly important.

Jane took a deep shuddering breath in her story, paused, and looked at him with frightened brown eyes, "This is going to sound stupid, but- there's something wrong with Erik. And, there's something wrong with me. I'm seeing things, I think- I killed those people, I-"

He interrupted her, kissing her quickly. He could feel it in her body when the tension left her and her arms slid around his neck. Thor kissed her cheeks, letting his whiskers tickle her skin playfully and he felt it when she smiled. Thor pulled back and lightly brushed her straggly hair away from her tearstained face. Her large brown eyes watched his blue ones, and he quirked a crooked smile at her.

"Courage, Jane Foster," he said, taking her small hands in his huge ones, "We'll get through this. Together."

She nodded, then flung her arms around him, knees on either side of his. She held him fiercely, gripping the fabric of his flannel shirt tightly in her fists. She didn't know how he'd got here, she knew she wasn't dreaming this time, but he was her rock in the storm. She silently thanked whomever was listening that he was here with her, allowing her to squeeze the air out of him.

While they were in a broom closet full of floor cleaners, and not the sunny beach with chocolate vodka mudslides that her subconscious had dirty sinful thoughts with daily, she wasn't complaining.

"Right," she said, taking a small breath, "I need to get out of here. Where is here, exactly? I don't think I'm in the hospital."

Thor rubbed her back, absentmindedly staring at the wall. "You're in a shadow realm. They're reflections of the real world, but created by my brother."

"I don't understand."

Thor glanced at her, then sighed and sat back against the wall and pulled her up on top of him. Jane settled against him and rested her head on his shoulder to listen for the explanation.

"My brother isn't a warrior. He's a sorcerer, a magician. He wins his battles by changing things, stepping in and out of a reality. He tried to explain it to me once when, when we-" he swallowed, cleared his throat, then continued, "There are the nine main realms, and each realm has little pockets connected to them."

Thor put his head back against the wall, and Jane pressed a kiss to his throat, encouraging him to continue. It must have been rough, going through painful memories of a brother who'd ultimately betrayed him. Her heart ached for him.

He gave her a squeeze, that continued, "We used to play in them, as children. He'd open the door, and whatever we imagined became real. Father hated it, of course, and put a stop to it eventually but-"

They were quiet a moment listening to the sound of the companionable silence, each contemplating their own thoughts. Jane's head was resting on his shoulder and her eyes were closed, his chin sat on the top of her head and he watched the door. He could not sense or hear Loki or Erik Selvig, but that did not mean that they might not be there. Anything was possible.

"How do we get out?" Jane asked finally.

Thor ran his hands through her hair, carefully dodging her stitches. Jane almost purred it felt so good. She held it in, though. Now was not the time to be jumping a Thunder God's bones. She seriously doubted that Erik and the Donald Muppet would take a rain check on killing her while she took care of her raging libido. Pity.

"It's easy to get out, if you know you're trapped. Loki easily loses interest; if you aren't holding his attention, he'll break it himself. But, if you want out and know you're trapped, any door, any window will do," he said.

Jane nodded. It made sense, in a extremely convoluted inter-dimensional physics sort of way. Stephen Hawking probably would have made more sense of it or not, but she was willing to believe it. For now. She'd work out the math later when she wasn't being chased by creepy mirror ghosts. A girl had to go with her priorities.

"How do I get past Erik without hurting him?"

Thor dragged a hand through his shaggy blond hair and sighed. "Therein lies the problem. I'm here, but…you're the only person I can affect. I'm sorry. You can see and touch and hear me, but no one else can."

"Oh god, I've gone crazy. If they lock me up in a crazy bin because of this, you will owe me so much, I am not kidding. We'll start out with cake batter ice cream. And then piggy back rides. Lot's of them," Jane told him, poking him in his sternum.

Thor grabbed her poking finger and planted a kiss on the tip of it. "Agreed my lady, though this servitude you are imposing is not without its merits."

He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and her brain immediately went south. She would give anything at that particular moment for them to be on a beach and not stuck in a hospital with his psychotic relative after them. Jane rolled her eyes and stretched out her cramping limbs, giving him a lovely view of her lithe body.

"Mmm," she sighed as she bent her head back, "I never said there wouldn't be rewards, cute boy."

Let him make whatever he would out of that.

Thor choked and fought to get control of himself. Now was not the time to take care of his brazen little scientist the way he truly wanted to. But she would get what was coming to her for teasing him like she was, she could count on that. Thor was not a patient man, but for Jane Foster he could make an exception.

Footsteps interrupted them.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

"Jane? Where are you?" Erik called.

They were quiet, listening to the man's footsteps pace past their hiding place. Once they could no longer hear him, they turned to each other. Thor gripped her upper arms and helped her to her feet. Jane steadied herself against him, hands resting on his pectorals, and had to re-get a grip on herself. The man was freaking built. She wanted to bite him.

She mentally smacked herself. 'Not the time, Jane Foster,' she thought.

"Arm yourself, Jane," Thor told her.

She looked around the little janitor's closet, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. Her eyes settled on the broom she'd held earlier. She picked it up and then looked back at him, silently asking his approval. Thor nodded.

"Good. Is he armed?" he asked.

"He has a knife."

"How big?"

Jane held her hands about a foot apart.

"Hah! That's not a knife, sweetheart, that's a little pig sticker," Thor told her, chuckling.

"Well, excuse me mister hero man, it wasn't a pig sticker when he was running at me in the dark, calling me dove," Jane muttered.

Thor drew her to him and gave her a squeeze. "I know sweetheart, I'm sorry. You were very brave."

"Damn straight."

"You can't let him get a hold you," Thor said, "He's your friend and he's under Loki's power, so you don't want to kill him. You need to disarm him."

He gripped her wrists. "Weak points, here." He tapped her ankles. "And here."

Thor's hands moved over her body and for once it didn't turn her on. All her attention was focused on what he was telling her. She figured she'd better after all, his advice was what was going to decide whether she got out of this alive or not. Besides, Thor was a warrior. He'd been bred since birth to fight battles and lead armies, so if she got her ass kicked in front of him she'd never be able to look him in the eye again.

Thor was still talking. "Your Erik Selvig is not a warrior, and neither is Loki. He'll go for your torso, a novice move, and will most likely not be able to control his momentum. Use his speed against him. Hurt his hands and he can't hurt you, hurt his ankles and he can't follow you."

Jane gripped the broom and nodded. Her palms were sweating and it was all she could do to keep from trembling. Jane took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of herself.

Panicking would not help things any, especially since her hero expected the damsel to save herself from the dragon while he got to watch and critique her technique.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

She reached out to push the door open. Thor caught her outstretched hand and pulled her around to face him.

For the space of a split second they stared at each other in the dark, faces a few inches from each other. She could feel his breath on her face. Her eyes dropped to his full mouth; she raised her face and his lips came crashing down into hers. Jane wound her arms around his neck and Thor slid his hands up under her butt and lifted her. She wound her legs around his waist, still not breaking their kiss. Jane felt like she was disintegrating. He made her hot, and cold, and crazy. Thor was her drug and she didn't want to ever live with out him.

Thor moved from her mouth to her cheeks, and then nipped and kissed his way down the column of her throat, his beard tickling at her skin. Jane's head reeled back, exposing as much of her skin as she could. She'd have marks later, but she didn't care.

Thor cupped the back of her head and guided her back up to his face. She rested her cheek against his rough one, both of them breathing heavily. Jane swallowed, trying to get the trembling out of her limbs. The man had almost shattered her world and all he'd been doing was kissing her. Yikes.

Thor looked her in the eyes, then kissed her forehead. "Courage, _minn ast_," he whispered.

Jane nodded. She'd look up those words later. Then dropped her legs and he helped her down to stand shakily on her own two feet. She gripped the broom in her hands and took a deep breath.

"Let's do this," she muttered.

With Thor's warm hand on the small of her back she pushed open the closet door and stepped out into the dark hallway.

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><p>.x.<p>

The hallway was eerily quiet, a far cry from the hell it had been a little while before. Jane could feel the hair raising on the back of her neck. She felt like she was being hunted, like the monster in the dark was merely content to watch her sweat and tremble before it pounced. She wanted to run screaming down the hallway, if only to get the ball rolling. All of this waiting and wondering was driving her nuts.

Her steps echoed oddly in the gloom but at least the shadows were staying shadows. Nothing stared at her from the dark, no weirdly wiggling dark spots, and no goblin giggles dogged at her heels. Jane counted that as a good thing, but then again, her dark adversary could just be letting her stew. One never knew with villains. Letting their victims into their diabolical plans wasn't usually a crucial part of the game.

Pity, that.

Jane's bare feet were freezing and she was regretting that she hadn't thought to grab her sweater. For some reason, the hospital was a frigid cold and her breath bloomed in front of her in little white clouds.

"Jane, behind you."

Thor's quiet warning was all she had. She threw herself to the side as Erik came hurtling past her, blade a silver arching gleam in the dark hallway. He recovered far faster than she thought he would and she had to dance out of the way when he came at her again.

"Take your time," Thor advised, "You're faster than he is."

Jane watched Erik's face when Thor spoke and her eyebrows raised in surprise. Erik's expression hadn't changed a jot, merely remained the same maniacal and crazed look it had been all along. He really couldn't see or hear the tall blond Norse god standing next to her.

God, she hoped she wasn't crazy. Being crazy would suck.

The two fighters circled each other, looking for an opening. As Thor had predicted Erik struck wildly, straight for her middle. Jane jumped to the side and then brought the handle of her broom smacking down on Selvig's knife hand as he shot past her. Erik cried out and dropped the blade and clutched at his now broken wrist. Jane whipped the broom around and whacked the bristled end on the back of Selvig's head as hard as she could. Erik Selvig pitched forward to land on his face, and didn't move.

"Run," Thor ordered her tersely.

Jane ran, bare feet slapping the tile floor in a quick succession. Thor barely made a sound as he ran beside her and he wasn't even breathing hard. Jane envied him. If she got out of this, she was going to get in shape even if it killed her.

"Found you, Dove."

The voice was back, and the echoes of it slid across her skin like something slimy. Jane wanted to stop and barf. She felt like she'd been violated. That horrid voice got inside her skin and made her flesh crawl like she had millions of bugs under the surface of her skin.

"Ignore him," Thor told her, "He won't touch you. Loki doesn't like participating in violence himself, not if he can help it."

Jane followed his advice and said nothing, though Loki's creepy voice grated on her nerves even though she tried to ignore it. Jane gritted her teeth. She was getting a stitch in her side and her breathing was becoming labored. Jane clutched at her side, gasping. The hallway was so damn long, and the lighted door at the end was so far away. She felt like her lungs were about to launch out of her chest and explode.

"Keep going," Thor told her, "You're almost safe."

That was easy for him to say. He was barely sweating. In Asgard they probably loaded him up with weights and made him run up and down mountains before he'd start even breathing hard.

Jane could now hear Erik's voice join Loki's behind her. His voice was fainter so he was probably a good ways behind her. He probably wouldn't be for long though. She had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't get the same long damn hallway she was getting. Jane pushed herself on in a final burst of speed.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

She hit the lighted double doors with a crash and flew through them, straight into the red gold armored form of Iron Man. Natasha and War Machine both flanked him, Natasha decked out in a sleek black cat suit with her trademark red curls forming a shaggy halo around her head. She held a hefty 50. Caliber Desert Eagle complete with a laser sight up and tracking the yawning black hole of the doorway. Peeking around from behind War Machine's tank like body stood Darcy, a worried and pinched look on her face. A virtual army of Avenger's agents crowded behind them in full SWAT gear.

"Target secure!" someone shouted.

Iron Man gently helped her to sit down before he stepped over her, hand raised and glowing, and strode off into the dark of the hospital. Natasha followed him along with the majority of the SWAT team. Soon their footsteps faded into the darkness. Thor crouched down next to her.

"You did well," he told her, gently touching the bruise on her shoulder from when she'd hit Iron Man with a resounding clang.

Jane smiled, "Thanks."

Darcy walked straight through Thor to wrap Jane's red duvet around her shoulders. "C'mon. Let's get you checked out. Fury wants to talk to you, fyi. Want me to distract him?"

Jane let Darcy walk her to the waiting ambulance and Nick Fury's glowering form. Jane smiled again when she felt Thor's hand on the back of her neck. It was going to be okay.

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6 Panicked Assistants

**Author's Note: **_Wow, I was so close to not being here. My boyfriend and I were out four wheeling last night and got the wheeler sunk in some silty water about 30 miles from where we'd parked. We had a looong walk back to our truck. It was cold and it was super windy, but some guys came along and gave us a ride on their wheeler so I am super grateful. Which is why I am able to update for you guys, and not having my half frozen corpse out in the boonies being chewed on by a bear. Over dramatic, who, me? Bah. _

_To you, random wheeler hero, I extend my deepest gratitude. Walking all of that in the cold black dark would have sucked._

_**Warning:** __This chapter is the previous chapter from Darcy's point of view, and it goes over what happened to her while Jane was having her Trickster God induced mirror meltdown in her room. Hopefully this helps alleviate the confusion, since I'm not going to delete the chapter._

**Disclaimer**: I_ own nothing._

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**Chapter 6:** Panicked Assistants and Stressful Situations

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They took Jane to the hospital right after the explosion at the ESRF site.

Darcy had been in a Roswell bar drinking Purple Nurples from a bright green alien shaped glass with the rest of Jane's team when she got the call from Coulson: There was an accident. Jane, Stark, and Pepper evac'd from the site to a special Avenger's hospital in the desert. Oh, no. All she'd been able to think about in that one moment was that her life was freaking over.

Her crazy neurotic boss was all she had.

Being Jane's assistant was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Sure, they fought a lot, but Jane had given her a life Darcy had never thought possible. Life with the Avengers and S.H.E.I.L.D gave her the adventures that previously she'd only read about. Not to mention that most of the S.H.E.I.L.D guys were pretty damn cute.

It took Darcy almost thirty minutes trying to bully her way into seeing her boss, but she managed. Jane was very pale, and there were various nicks and cuts all over her face and body. There was a haunted look in her dark eyes that gave Darcy the heebie jeebies. Jane was taking the project failure to heart, and if her expression was any indication, than every single one of those deaths was weighing on her. Darcy decided that what was best would be to leave her boss to the tender mercies of the doctors.

She then spent the entire time Jane was getting checked out by the doctor running around trying to answer Director Fury's angry phone calls, field the hordes of Avengers personal that were generally making a nuisance of themselves instead of actually helping, and making sure Stark didn't end up with any future child support lawsuits.

Some things were easier done than others.

It was amazing how many of the agents Fury had sent over kept trying to barge into Jane's room and ask her stupid questions rather get anything done themselves. So Darcy was quite pleased with herself when she gave them the task of getting her boss flowers, each and every one of them frequenting a different flower shop. She specified that the more exuberant bouquets the better: mainly flowers that trailed feelers and smelled like a tropical garden.

Director Fury would certainly be cheesed when he got the floral bill, as she suspected that none of them would pay out of their own pockets and would rather foot the bill to the Avengers project.

Cheapskates. At the same though, it was totally worth it. The look on Fury's face alone when he got the bill invoice would satisfy her mischief urge for a good long while.

The way Darcy figured it, Fury had way too much stress in his life and living a little would be good for him. Besides, giving sick girls flowers was good karma. She knew he'd see it her way eventually, even if someone did the giving for him and he was totally wigging out about it now.

He'd thank her later. Much later.

Or maybe not, as the man in question was striding towards her with enough pent up rage inscribed in his face to fuel several fight clubs. He looked like he could take War Machine on in a wrestling contest and win on nothing but angst and sheer tenacity.

"Where are they?" Director Fury, expression saying quite plainly that anyone who tried to steamroll him out of giving up what they knew would live to regret it.

They both knew who he was talking about. Darcy knew when to fight a battle and when to get someone back later when they'd forgot about said battle.

Wordlessly she pointed at the ER room where Jane was still getting the dirt and grit scrubbed out of her wounds.

Director Fury stalked past her and she almost giggled when the army of nurses toting her flowers came around the corner following him. Fury glowered at the flowers, but didn't say anything. He knew she was responsible; Director Fury knew everything. Keeping secrets from him was like trying to keep Santa Claus from knowing that you'd put egg whites into your bratty little sister's shampoo bottle. Which Darcy would never admit to doing. Nope, no siree, not her.

Which was why she considered it a win for her when he didn't say anything about the multitude of flowers. Grinning a little, Darcy followed Fury into Jane's room, fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

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><p>.x.<p>

All in all, it went a lot better than she thought it would.

Director Fury shouted a lot, but he also left with the all too familiar look in his eye that said quite plainly that the person or persons responsible for the accident and leaving him with tons of paperwork would soon be regretting they were ever born. That was fine with Darcy. Nick Fury made lots of people cry: his underlings, paperwork, and evil in general. He got things done.

Which was probably why he left so quickly, and why Pepper was suddenly engaging Jane in the fundamentals of astrophysics. She had a sinking feeling as to why that became all too apparent when Stark began telling the various nurses that he needed to be 'doped', with the good stuff. Yikes.

So she got stuck with Stark.

The man's equipment was still hanging merrily out of his stupid paper dress as she herded him from the room.

After fending off the forth gold digging skank in a row, she decided that she was going to ask for a cattle prod for Christmas instead of another taser. Or at least beg Pepper to do her job. Babysitting Tony Stark took way too much energy. Especially when she had better things to be doing, like checking out that tall glass of water winking at her from the nurses' reference desk station. Male nurses may be weird to some people, but Darcy had a thing for scrubs.

She winked back, then sighed when Stark decided to veer off towards someone's unfortunately busty relative, probably there to see their own hospital invalid.

Darcy sighed and jabbed Stark in the shoulder. Her job never ended. From making sure her boss ate that day, to making sure Tony Stark didn't get a wild hair and blow up one of his knock down drag out parties, to making sure Pepper ate, to making sure Natasha Romanoff didn't murder Stark for blowing up said party; it never rained, it poured with the Avengers.

And just yesterday she'd spied a folder marked 'Dr. Bruce Banner' on Director Fury's desk filled with pictures of some angry green dude who was a hernia waiting to happen. If he was one of Fury's new minions, then she absolutely refused to baby sit that one.

That way lay dragons.

When they reached Stark's hospital room (privately Darcy felt that the only reason they were keeping him was that the head nurse, bustier than all the other nurses, was hoping for a marriage proposal) she threw a Rubik's Cube onto his bed.

He'd solve it in about a minute of course, but it would keep him occupied long enough for her to shut his door and close his blinds. Jarvis would do the rest.

It was a remarkably good thing Tony Stark had some OCD where he had to figure something out and be in the know, be it someone's dirty secret, a weird tech thing he hadn't previously known about, or some stupid puzzle. It certainly made her life easier, anyway. Toss him a puzzle or a folder with TOP SECRET stamped across the top and he was occupied for the next fifty six seconds. Enough time for her to hide and make him Jarvis' problem.

Mmm, Jarvis and his lovely voice.

If Jarvis ever found a body she'd totally be after him. For a computer, he certainly had a sexy voice. She didn't envision Stark handing her a copy of the program though. She frowned. Maybe if she begged enough, for her birthday. And said pretty please. It was worth a shot.

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><p>.x.<p>

Stark crisis averted, for the moment, Darcy snagged a pack of poptarts from the vending machine and meandered her way back to the nurses' station, fully intending on igniting a conversation with the brown eyed hunk who'd been winking at her.

And that's when she spied yet another Avengers' underling in scruffy office clothes clutching a manila folder and trying to break down her boss's door.

It never rained, it poured.

Darcy rolled up her sleeves. She was getting tired of getting rid of people. If she had to beat him to death with her poptart, she'd do it. Hadn't these guys ever heard the saying that sick people needed to be left alone?

"What are you doing?" she growled, in her best impression of Nick Fury.

The man paled immediately, much to her delight. "I've- I mean, I have a report on the explosion, Ma'am. I need to see Dr. Foster."

For a moment she thought he'd salute her, he was so nervous. Her voice impressions were getting better. Awesome.

Darcy held out her hand. "I'm her assistant. Give."

After a few moments of blustering he handed it over, and then fairly bolted for the door and freedom. Huh. She hadn't thought she was that scary. Darcy shook her head, and knocked on Jane's door. She waited, then knocked again. Nothing. Darcy frowned and stood on her tip toes to peer through the glass window.

For a moment she couldn't see. Jane's room was completely dark.

Then she made out the shadowy form of her boss crouched on the floor, hands fisted in her hair and staring at something across the room that Darcy couldn't see. Broken glass glinted on the floor along with what looked suspiciously like blood.

For a moment it didn't sink in, then it hit her like a bolt of lightening. Darcy jiggled the door handle, then threw herself against the door, yelling Jane's name. The door refused to budge, like she was trying to open a wall that had a picture of a door on it.

She stepped back, wondering for a moment what she was going to do. Then she glanced down. Darkness was creeping out from underneath the door. An all encompassing inky black that sent out sickly looking tendrils and pushed the blackness out farther. The door was gradually darkening and as she watched, the dark whatever-it-was pushed out farther. She looked back through the window. She could no longer see her boss.

Darcy shivered. Whatever was going down was not good. This was out of her league.

She threw down the folder and barreled out of the hallway heading straight for Stark's door. His specialty was figuring out potentially world threatening situations. And if he wouldn't help her, then she'd steal his suit and blast the door open.

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_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7 Mysteries and Surprises

**Author's Note: **_About that last chapter, I didn't mean to be confusing. It was basically what happened to Jane from Darcy's point of view. Now we're on to regular story flow, though I will be skipping back to Darcy every couple of chapters because she's super fun to write. Btw, I haven't properly thanked you guys for the reviews in a while. So THANKS! All in caps, you guys are awesome!_

_Thanks to **Shipperwolf, Coka Cookie Cola, TrianaStyx, Sheherezade's Fable, Maeven Greystone, Qilin,** and all of the rest of you who have supported this little ficlet and liked it! Thanks a bunch you guys are awesome!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing. Also, a bit of a warning, sometimes my humor can be a little crude. I apologize in advance._

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**Chapter 7:** Mysteries and Surprises

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Jane sat in the ambulance wrapped in her red duvet and looking remarkably like a florescent cherry colored Christmas present with a mop of scraggly brown hair poking out of the top.

She'd very carefully not looked in Thor's direction when Darcy had handed it to her, but she could feel him grinning. Smug bastard. Oh well, there wasn't anything she could really do about it. Besides, what did he think she was going to do with it, throw it out? It was her security blanket, literally. It kept her warm at night and also conveniently enough kept her from being exploded into little tiny bits.

The group was quiet a moment. There were shouts and gunfire coming from the building. Jane could hear both Iron Man and War Machine yelling, but she couldn't discern what they were so worked up about.

Both Darcy and Director Fury were staring at her, sporting the same hungry look. They were both dying to ask her what happened and she wondered offhand who would break first.

"So," Darcy said carefully, obviously not trying to prod but being unable to stop herself, "What happened? Your room was completely black, and then the blackness kept spreading. I went and got Stark, he scanned it with one of his doohickey thingies, and said it was emitting the same particles as our wormholes."

Director Fury's face remained a flat frown. Apparently this information was nothing he didn't already know. Alrighty then, that certainly made her job easier.

Jane glanced at where Thor had been reclining against the wall and then blanched when she saw he'd disappeared.

She looked down at her hands folded tightly in her lap, feeling oddly dejected. She had hoped that he'd be able to stay with her a while longer. Her hands looked oddly pale and small in the red sea on her lap. The EMT had dabbed away all of the blood and picked the glass out with tweezers, but he hadn't gotten around to wrapping them. The skin was white around her knuckles and the cuts on her hands were starting to congeal. She poked at one of them, trying to figure out what she was going to say to Darcy and Director Fury.

Suddenly mentioning Thor didn't seem like such a bright idea, even if she trusted Darcy implicitly. Not so much Director Fury; he did not tolerate inadequacy on his team.

If he thought she was having mental issues than she would be out, no questions asked. Darcy would believe her, but Darcy would also worry. It would just create more stress and more problems, and certainly more questions that she was not ready to answer. Not to mention the mandatory psych evaluation that Director Fury would make her go through. Jane shivered. Her shrink gave her the creeps.

Jane looked up, first meeting Darcy's very worried and pinched expression, than to Director Fury's thundercloud visage looming behind her.

"As near as I can tell," she said finally, choosing her words with utmost care, "Is that it was a parallel universe of sorts, held together by the same process that generates a wormhole."

Director Fury leaned forward, bracing himself against the bumper of the ambulance. "Do you know what initiated it? Residual effects from the ESRF explosion?"

Jane looked him in the eye. This was a question she could answer without hesitation. "It was Loki."

"The little bastard who sent that Destroyer robot to trash half of New Mexico?"

"Yep."

Director Fury nodded to her curtly. "Thank you Ms. Foster, I'll be in touch."

He left with his black suited, dark sunglass wearing, and very scary looking entourage, muttering under his breath about defense contracts and beating Loki's "scrawny little mythical tranny ass."

Jane snorted. Nice.

Darcy leaned out of the ambulance, staring after Fury's retreating form. "Ya know, for someone so important he sure isn't very politically correct."

"It's Nick Fury. The man has a mouth made of sewage. That's him on a good day," Jane muttered.

"I didn't know Thor's brother was a cross dresser."

"He certainly was in the mythos. Spent half his time as a girl boning his relatives and various livestock."

Darcy's face puckered up like she'd just been forced to eat an entire tub of vegemite. "Ew!"

Jane opened her mouth, fully intending to add to Darcy's current delightful very vivid collection of dirty mental images, but then the wall of the hospital glowed a violent purple. For a moment the glow just fluctuated. Then the wall ballooned outwards, its red bricked sides groaning heavily with the amount of strain being put upon them. The light flickered faster and then it exploded outward in a shower of debris, sending a heavy cloud of dust out over the crowd outside the hospital.

Jane coughed, arms up over her head to protect herself from the pebbles pelting her. She could hear Darcy hacking and chocking next to her, then start swearing about a discovered rip in her favorite hat. Jane sympathized with her. Darcy had been learning to knit and the bright pink and horrendously lumpy hat had been her first creation.

War Machine stomped out of the hole in the wall, managing to look viciously pissed even though he was covered head to toe in armor. He was holding Erik Selvig upside-down by one ankle, and as Jane watched incredulously, he gave him a little shake.

Iron Man tromped out after him, followed by a highly amused Natasha. All three of them were covered in a layer of dust and grime, giving them the appearance of a couple of cavemen and their one damsel harem complete with unfortunate captave.

"He bit me!" War Machine shouted furiously.

"And he's missing all his teeth because of it," Natasha said, unable to stop laughing.

"He certainly shimmied up your suit like a monkey," Iron Man said, poking Selvig with one metal finger, "I thought you said you were fast."

Selvig hissed at him and tried to bite him. Stark snatched his metal sheathed finger back before Erik could loose anymore of his teeth.

"I_ am_ fast," War Machine muttered irritably, dumping Selvig onto the ground where several doctors swooped in on him.

In a few seconds Erik Selvig was trussed up in a straight jacket and bundled into his own ambulance. The ambulance took off, no doubt headed for a private Avengers' facility, spitting gravel as it left. The group watched it retreat down the road, each struck by the rapid downturn the once famous scientist had taken. Erik Selvig had been a brilliant professor and astrophysicist, and in a few years Loki's possession had turned his radiant intellect into a pile of silly puddy.

Natasha joined Jane and Darcy at their ambulance, brushing dirt of her skintight black body armor as she walked.

"How're you feeling?" Natasha asked.

Jane smiled. "Better, now that I'm back in the real world."

All three watched the dirt cloud left by Erik's retreating ambulance dissipate, listening to War Machine and Iron Man still bickering in the background.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Jane asked finally.

"His noodle looked fried," Darcy muttered, "That don't look like okay to me."

Natasha sighed and leaned her hip against the bumper, crossing her arms. "I don't know. He'll have the best doctors though, Director Fury will see to that."

Jane chewed her lip Erik Selvig had once upon a time been her everything. He'd been the father figure she'd never had growing up, he'd encouraged her to pursue a Master's Degree in astrophysics when she'd been about to drop out of school. Erik Selvig had made her what she was. She hoped fervently that he'd be okay, that it would work out. She had a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that her dreams were just dreams, that everything was going downhill. She had a icky feeling that this was just the beginning, that Loki's interfering would get worse and wasn't over, not by a long shot. She didn't know what Avengers were in for, but it wasn't going to be good.

She just hoped they would be ready for it, and that they would all survive whatever it was.

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Thor's eyes shot open and he gasped for breath.

His stomach reeled and he rolled over and vomited, black paste staining the golden tiles of his room in Asgard. The Thunder God coughed and spat, stomach still clenching even though there was nothing left to give.

He sat up, gasping, and leaned his head tiredly against the massive post of his bed. Eyes closed, he listened to the familiar sounds of Asgard in an effort to get his stomach under control. He could hear the faraway hustle and bustle in the streets below his tower room, Volstagg arguing with a cook about the proper way to cook a whole cow in the hallway.

He took deep breaths, and the room eventually stopped spinning. His eyes opened and he turned to the small box next to him made of gnarled dark wood. Inside its dark velvet interior two indentations were made in the soft fabric. He picked the last object in the box up from its spot, and the onyx colored crystal in his large palm glinted.

He had one trip left, he just wasn't sure he could survive it. The Norns had given him the way to visit Jane, but they never did anything for free, and there was always a catch. The crystals were tearing him apart; he felt sicker and weaker with each trip. He couldn't leave Jane alone though. She would be an easy target for Loki. She'd be dead without him.

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_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8 Hard Knocks and Ninjas

**Author's Note:** _What do you guys think of the directions the story is taking? Any critiques? Criticism? I'm totally having fun with it, but I wanna make sure it's still making you guys happy (^_^) Lemme know whatcha think!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 8:** Hard Knocks and Ninjas

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Thor finally managed to drag himself to his feet and he stumbled blearily out onto his balcony. He left the mess on the floor; the maids would clean it up later. The clean and clear air outside was a welcome relief from the stifling close in air of his room. After every trip, he craved open spaces. The crystals squelched his insides and stretched his consciousness to the point of breaking, but never fully crossing the line. Every time he used one he felt like a little piece of him had died. He wondered if the interspatial travel were driving him mad. He supposed it was entirely possible. After all, the Norns had their own agenda and he had always had a suspicion that it did not involve him.

Oh well, he'd deal with that dragon when he came to it.

Thor rested his armored forearms against the smooth golden rail. The warm breeze tousled his blond hair. The entire expanse of Asgard was spread out before him in a roiling golden sea of metal and the gleaming platinum star mass it rose out of. His tower room had an excellent view of the shifting city and the vastness of space spreading out beyond it, and when all else failed the majesty of it all never failed to amaze him.

He felt his heartbeat gradually slow from its mad stampede that the crystals had induced, and his stomach quit threatening to pack its bags and jump ship.

Thor chewed his lip. He didn't know whether his body would stand another trip like that, but he also couldn't leave Jane alone. Loki's actions had determined that Jane had a giant trickster bullseye on her forehead. His brother held a grudge, and Jane was going to play the whipping boy. Loki wouldn't stop until he'd exacted his revenge, or got bored and found something else to occupy his attention.

He also couldn't go to the Norns again.

They'd shown no small amount of glee when Odin AllFather's chosen heir had approached them for help. They hadn't named a specific price for their assistance, merely requested a favor, but Thor knew that they did nothing for free. He just hoped a horrendously sick stomach was their only price tag. Not much was known about the Norns. They weren't quite Aesir, but they were wise, though no one knew for sure how old they really were. They'd been there since the beginning and they would probably be there at the end. Three ladies in heavy robes: one very old, one very young, and one that appeared to be in the middle of her years. They never changed but it was rumored that they could solve any problem, for a price. And with their gifts always came catches. Thor just hoped he would not regret it.

His door opening and closing jerked him from his thoughts.

"My Lord?" Sif tentatively called.

He heard her gasp when she saw the mess on the floor at the foot of his bed. Uh oh.

He grimaced. Now he was in for it. Sif was the most tenacious of his friends when it came to his health, and would not hesitate to inform him as to whether or not she thought he was up to something that wasn't exactly bright. Sif was always the first in line to tell him his plans were stupid, but she was also the first in line at his back following him into danger. They'd been friends since they could walk.

She'd understand. He hoped.

"My Lord," she hesitated, then laid a hand on his shoulder, "Are you well?"

Thor made sure his expression was perfectly amiable before he turned to face her. "Yes, I'm fine. Was there something you needed, my friend?"

Thor didn't notice the way her forehead creased almost imperceptibly at his use of the word 'friend.'

She studied his face a moment, then sighed. "You went to see her again, didn't you?"

Thor couldn't lie to her. "Yes."

"You can't keep doing this!" Sif shouted, losing her temper, "It's killing you!"

Thor leaned back against the balcony, glaring at her. "She needed my help. Loki was going to kill her," he snapped.

Sif put a hand over her eyes and sighed again, obviously counting to ten to deal with her bullheaded liege. Thor grinned. At least he still had that particular skill. He considered it an off day when it took longer than three minutes to drive Sif up the wall. She looked oddly pretty at the moment, her usual attire of armor and leather and boots forgone for a white gown and sandals. She looked almost like- like a girl. Sif dropped her hand and put both her hands on her hips.

"And we don't need you? Where will we be, if you're dead for a girl you haven't known for more than a month?" Sif snarled.

Seeing the suddenly fierce expression on his face, her owned softened. "We need you," she said, then her tone dropped to a whisper, "_I_ need you."

Thor said nothing. He hadn't expected her to understand. He merely shook his head and then went back to his favorite pastime of looking out over the city and brooding.

"Ugh, fine, be that way."

Sif stomped out of his chambers and he heard the door slam behind her. He grinned when his entire room rattled and the chandelier above his bed tinkled ominously. Sif may be a lot of things, but she certainly had spirit. Thor shook his head, laughing. Their last fight had seen his entire suit of armor and Volstagg's huge cast-iron brazier with which he cooked his meals tossed out of a window. Sif's temper was legendary, it was one of the things that fueled her warrior's spirit.

She'd come around eventually, she always did.

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Screaming, someone was screaming. Oh wait, it was her. She was back in that stupid dark hospital again, running away. There were things chasing her, burned and twisted bodies sliding along the walls and through the floors after her like marionettes piloted by a mad puppeteer. Jane risked a glance back, and her attackers took advantage of her slowing and pounced. She screamed again and clawed at the hands in her hair, hands that were pulling her down, down and the floor was swallowing her up-

Jane jerked awake, straggly hair falling into her flushed and sweaty face. Her heart was racing out of control, threatening to jump ship and leap right out of her chest. Jane took deep, shuddering breaths and attempted to gain control back over her rebellious organs. Gradually her heartbeat slowed, and her breathing became normal.

She looked around the familiar dark interior of her trailer. No monsters, no shadowy ghosts. It was only a dream.

"Jane?" Darcy's voice was sleepy as she stuck her head over the arm of the couch.

Jane nearly jumped out of her skin before she remembered that her assistant had been sleeping on her couch in order to keep an eye on her.

"I'm fine," she said, attempting to inject high amounts of chipper into her tone and failing miserably, "Just a little dream."

Darcy was unconvinced. "Uh huh, sure, and I'm the Easter Bunny."

Darcy drug herself up out of the couch and padded over to the fridge where she extracted a massive tub of cake batter ice cream and two spoons from a drawer. She carted this over to Jane's bed where she plunked the tub down between them and jabbed her spoon straight into the middle, coming up with a glob that threatened to drip down her chin when she stuck it into her mouth.

"Ooo brain freeze."

Jane chuckled, digging in. Darcy sure knew how to make her feel better, even when all else had failed. Jane could have kicked herself. Here she was moping about losing her inter dimensional romance, and being entirely ungrateful. She was just glad Darcy had stayed by her; she knew she couldn't have been the easiest person to be around, what with the long nights spent screaming at her computers and the odd fact that things seemed to be going catastrophically wrong around her. Yet here Darcy was, sleeping on her freaking couch, just to make sure she was okay.

Jane knew without a doubt that she did not deserve Darcy's friendship, but she was eternally grateful for it all the same.

When they'd demolished half of the tub of ice cream, Darcy set her spoon down. "What'd you dream about?"

Jane stayed silent. She didn't want to talk about it. She had this half crazy idea that if she acknowledged her dreams and paid attention to them, they really would be out to get her instead of just being dreams that disappeared when she woke up.

After a moments' quiet Darcy plowed ahead, undeterred by her boss's silence. "When I was little, there was this mean kid down the block named Joey Donner. He used to pull on my pigtails, and once he even pushed me off of the slide. I cried. But my dad told me that if I didn't confront him he'd never stop or respect me."

"What'd you do?"

"I punched him on the nose."

"And he left you alone?"

"Nope. He gave me a black eye and a bloody nose. My dad talked to his mom and I dunno what they said but his mom put the fear of God into him," Darcy said, licking her spoon, "The point is, I defended myself."

"Okay." Jane wasn't exactly sure how she could punch a Norse Trickster god in the nose, assuming he'd come out of a mirror long enough for her to try.

"You," Darcy said, jabbing her spoon at Jane's face, "Need to ask Natasha to turn you into a ninja."

Jane choked on a mouthful of ice cream, and then winced as cold cake batter suddenly shot form her nose.

"Seriously?" Jane said, " Me? A super ninja spy? Bah, humbug. Not only do I not have the friggan' body for that sort of thing, but I don't even have _time_. Have you _seen_ Fury's list of demands? He keeps adding to them!"

"Hey, Ebenezer, at least it would help you from feeling like a victim and being afraid all of the time," Darcy said, "Trust me, punching Joey was the best minute and a half of my life."

"I'm not a victim!"

"Hah! Pa-lease. You are the classic damsel in distress!"

"Are not!"

"Too!"

And thus followed a spectacular pillow fight, and hours later, when Jane's trailer was covered in feathers and the two combatants were half dead, it still wasn't exactly clear who won.

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"Thor!"

Thor looked up guiltily from where he'd been the process of stuffing the Norns' box under his bed. Odin AllFather was striding towards him with a look on his face usually reserved for Frost Giants or the heavy layer of poo the gardeners layered the rose gardens with.

Sif followed Odin, looking rather apprehensive. Thor glared at her and her gaze slid guiltily away from his; she'd ratted him out. Sif mouthed 'sorry' behind Odin's back. She was apologetic, but not sorry enough apparently to allow him to save Jane Foster. He hardened his glare and she winced. This was not over.

"Thor," Odin said again, his voice a mere rumble now.

Odin struck the floor with the end of his staff and the small black box shot out from under Thor's bed to slide to a halt at the All Father's feet. All three of the room's occupants stared at it for a long moment. No one spoke.

"Father," Thor said, "I can explain-"

"I sent you to Midgard to learn! And it appears you've learned nothing!" Odin snapped, "You are willing to trade your soul for a mortal?"

"Father-" Thor began, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Enough," Odin sighed, "You've learned much from Midgard, my son, but your ties there are over. We protect the sanctity of the realms, but you do not give your life for one insignificant mortal. That was _not_ the lesson I'd intended you to learn when I banished you. Your people need you, and it is time to assume your place at Asgard's helm."

Thor watched his father with growing horror, knowing what was coming and was completely unable to stop it.

Odin brought the end of his staff down on the Norns' box and it shattered, turning to black dust that blew away in the breeze from Thor's balcony door. Thor stared at the spot where the box had been. His last connection to Jane, his last hope of defending her was gone.

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_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9 Betrothal and Questions

**Author's Note:** _I'm probably going to be spotty with my updating for the next couple of weeks, just a heads up. My favoritest (yes, this is so magnanimous that I used a pretend word) author in the whole wide world just released a new book, so between that and the papers I'm getting slammed with in school I won't be able to update regularly for a while. Sorry guys! I shall do my best though!_

_By the way, don't be worried by this chapter. I am a die hard sucker for happy endings and this is a Jane and Thor fic. Never you fear. That being said, let the drama continue._

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing._

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**Chapter 9: **A Betrothal and Uncomfortable Questions

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Thor felt like he'd been sucker punched. Jane was going to die. Loki was going to drive her mad to satisfy his own misgivings on his twisted origins. She was going to die because Thor had caste his brother out of Asgard, and because Loki couldn't handle the truth of his own past.

Thor stared at the ashes on the floor, not really registering that his only hope was really and truly gone. He glared at Sif; she_ knew_ how important Jane was to him and she'd basically thrown him in front of the charging bull.

Sif was standing behind Odin, twisting her hands and clearly distressed. Thor was _not_ taking this at all like she'd planned.

"No!" Thor shouted, trying to make is father understand, "Without me, Jane will-"

"Be left to her own devices," Odin finished, thunder rolling in his voice.

Thor clenched his fists. Gone were the days when he'd solve his problems with breaking things, but he wanted so badly to unleash the rage that was boiling up inside him. Odin and Sif were both single-handedly dooming Jane and her people to Loki's revenge.

"My son," Odin said sighing, when he saw Thor's frown was not disappearing, "Your people are _here,_ and they need you now. I am an old man, I will not last long in this world. Valhalla calls me. The people of Asgard will look to you for leadership when I am gone. I am merely trying to prepare you for that eventuality, and to protect you."

Odin gripped his son's shoulder, giving him a friendly little shake.

For the first time Thor saw just how old his father really was. The years had weighed on Odin, and it showed. Loki's expulsion from Asgard had almost broken the All Father. It shocked Thor then, that the man that had raised him that was all powerful and could do no wrong, was now old and frail. He could still decimate armies and nations, of course, Odin was still and never would stop being a dangerous entity, but he was tired. His Father was looking him, tired eyes asking his son not to fail him.

Thor sighed.

"I will do my best to care for our people, Father," he said finally.

Odin clapped his shoulder again. "I _am_ sorry, my son, I know what it is like to lose love."

_'Not a woman like Jane, you don't_,' Thor thought.

Jane was everything he could have ever wished for. She had fire, and spirit. She was smart and beautiful and she filled his thoughts from morning to night. Jane made him feel what no other woman had ever come close to. She was funny and caring, and she had taken the time to care for him and attempt to put him back together again when his people had banished him. Granted, she was also after her research, but Jane Foster had been there for him when no other had. At the very least he owed her that much. Thor decided then and there that while he would see his people to peace, he would do anything in his power to ensure that Jane was protected. He would not leave her alone. His honor, and his heart, demanded it.

"You may have lost your Terran maiden," Odin said, "But I will not leave you alone in your rule. Your mother and I talked long over this and we have decided that it is not right that you rule alone."

Thor's head snapped up and his heart dropped into his stomach. He did _not_ like the sudden turn this conversation had taken. He glanced at Sif, wondering if she knew what was going to happen and seeking her support in this, and was startled to see that her cheeks were rosy pink. She wasn't meeting his eyes. Oh no.

Suddenly he got it, it all made perfect sense.

Odin stepped back and drew Sif forward, placing her hand in Thor's. "We have spoken to her parents, and the arrangements have been made. You are betrothed, in the eyes of me and your people. Sif will make you a great and wise, not to mention beautiful, queen."

Thor swallowed. He was dumbstruck. Sif raised shining eyes to him and her blush deepened. It all made sense now: the way she looked at him, her blushing cheeks. She hadn't defended his saving of Jane because-

"I will leave you to it then," Odin said, interrupting Thor's thoughts. "Congratulations, I am proud of you both. I am honored to call you my future King and Queen."

Odin left in a sweep of his cloak, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Thor looked down at Sif, not trusting himself to speak. He got the feeling that if he opened his mouth now, any friendship that he still felt for her would be gone in an explosion of rage and poisonous hate. He was so angry now, so betrayed, that it took all his willpower to stand there and listen to her explanation. She knew how he felt for Jane Foster, she _knew_! And still she agreed to this- this _farce_.

Thor wanted to break something.

"Thor," she began quickly, "I- I know you're angry, but can't you see? I've _always_ loved you."

Thor swallowed again and dropped his gaze. This was not happening, it couldn't be happening. He had been so happy to see Jane again, but now it felt like a lifetime ago. His feet were like lead, miring him to the carpet. Sif stepped closer to him, cheeks flushed and dark hair falling over her shoulders in waves. She cupped his cheek, forcing his defeated eyes to meet hers.

"Please," she whispered, "I have waited _so_ long for you to see me, to notice me. I have been by your side always, since the beginning. I became a warrior for you. I have fought by your side, I have always been here, supporting you. This will work. Please, see that."

"Sif-" Thor began.

"Shh," she said, placing a finger over his mouth, "Give this a chance, I beg you. Give us a chance. Going to Earth was killing you and it would break my heart if you died, as I am sure it would break hers. Would _she_ want you dead for her sake?"

Thor didn't say anything, but he slowly shook his head. Jane would not want that.

"Then she and I are the same in that," Sif said quietly, "Please, My Lord, let me care for you and share your burden. See me, see my love for you. I know you don't care for me now, not like that, but give me a chance to win your love."

Thor searched her face. She left her heart and her emotions on display for him. He sighed internally, he couldn't do it, couldn't hurt her like that. She'd betrayed him, yes, but she was also still his friend. His gaze flicked to the view out the window, the golden city of Asgard, home to millions. If he married Sif it would provide security for them, a renewed protection of dynasty that an aging Odin desired.

Thor bent hesitantly, feeling like he was trapped in his own body, and Sif's eyes slid closed in anticipation. What the hell was he _doing_?

Thor dropped a clumsy kiss on her mouth and she melted against him. It felt weird.

Kissing Sif wasn't at all like kissing Jane. Jane made him loose himself in her; he craved her like he craved air to breath. Sif was an experienced kisser, and he wondered briefly where she had acquired her knowledge, but she didn't make heat boil in his belly like Jane did. He didn't want to swing her in his arms and take her to his bed and lock the world out.

Thor pulled away and chastely kissed her cheek. Sif's eyes opened slowly and she shyly smiled at him, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"Was that good for you, my Lord?" Sif asked softly.

Thor looked at her open and happy face and couldn't squelch the joy and pleasure in her expression, no matter how much he wanted to. His people needed this to work and his father needed this to work. There was no way for him to get back to Jane, Odin had seen to that. The Norns would not give him another chance and even if they did his Father would ensure that he could not see them. Odin would take no chances and would bar all access to the Norns so that his son would not mess up the delicate political situation he'd set up. He would get back to Jane, he swore it on his soul, but for now this little political arrangement needed to work, for the good of all of Asgard.

Thor, feeling the ever deepening guilt in his betrayal of promises to Jane, finally nodded.

Sif smiled triumphantly and kissed him again.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Jane hesitated before Pepper's office, feeling utterly ridiculous.

She didn't know how Darcy had managed to bully her into this. Now that she was out of her trailer and it was not two o'clock in the morning, the idea of asking Natasha to teach her how to beat people up seemed stupid. She didn't know what she was thinking. She took a deep breath, already thinking of different excuses to tell Darcy of why exactly she chickened out and didn't ask. Pepper was in a meeting with Stark and Fury, so Natasha would be alone. The amount of people to see her make a fool of herself would be a grand total of one, and Jane knew the Black Widow wouldn't pick on her for it.

Natasha Romanoff killed people for a living, but there wasn't a mean bone in her body.

Jane still felt like a complete bonehead though. With this sort of question, an audience of one was an entirely too big of a number. Oh well, she'd promised Darcy she'd ask.

She knocked, feeling silly.

"It's open!" Natasha called.

Jane pushed the door open and skulked sideways into the room, unable to meet the Black Widow's eyes. Natasha frowned, sensing something was up and that Jane was uncomfortable. Natasha shuffled the paperwork on Pepper's desk and watched Jane wander nervously into the room. Jane couldn't stop moving, it seemed, she wanted so badly to run and get out of there. Natasha was looking at her now though, and there was no getting out of it.

"What's up," Natasha asked, continuing to file Pepper's paperwork.

"Well," Jane said, casting around for something to say, "I, uh-"

"You need to teach her to kill people," Darcy said, popping into the room like a overly cheerful jack in the box. She'd obviously anticipated her boss's cowardice, and had come to ensure results.

"Darcy!" Jane hissed.

Darcy ignored her. "Please instruct this delicate damsel how to defend herself from the evil villain."

Natasha choked, trying not to laugh. The Black Widow looked over at Jane who was cherry red and trying to reign in her assistant but not contradicting her either. Natasha covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. It was a funny request, but she could also see that though Jane was trying to shut Darcy up, she also wanted the lessons badly.

Darcy bent at the waist and clapped her hands together. "Please take her as your Padawan Learner, honored Sensei!"

"Darcy!"

Natasha cracked up. "You guys are awesome. I'll see what I can do. Come by the gym tomorrow in the morning and we'll work something out, Dr. Foster."

Jane drug Darcy out of the room, still bright red, and trying to make her escape as fast as possible. If she spent a moment longer in that room she felt that she might literally drop dead out of shame. Darcy was loving it, though. She kept trying to squirm out of her boss's death grip and get back to bothering Natasha about possible training regimes.

"Thanks Natasha!" Darcy called, finally accepting that she wasn't going to get free.

Jane shook her head, wondering what her assistant had got her into.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued._


	10. Chapter 10 Pain and Gain

**Author's Note:** _To the Sif and Thor thing: they were married in the Mythos and got shacked up a lot in the Marvel verse. In the movie it seems like they try to make a nod to that, cus Sif is always half a step behind Thor, not to mention the whole 'Live-Sif,-while-I-touch-your-face -and-ask-you-not-to-die-fighting-a-impossible-battle-against-a-killer-robot' scene between Sif and Thor. That's my reasoning, I'm reading in-between lines here. So it's not totally out of character. It could happen. Maybe. This is how I'm explaining it anyway. I'm trying to make drama._

_Please continue to let me know what you guys think! When I drag my corpse home from a rough day at work and see your reviews, it makes my day. Anyway, on with the drama!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 10:** Pain and Gain

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The room was spinning. Why was the room spinning?

Rooms shouldn't spin, not unless it was a freaky carnival ride or part of a Nancy Drew novel. Jane groaned. The ceiling had started doing some sort of complex ring-around-the-rosie technique and she closed her eyes to keep them from rolling right out of her head. Jane took deep breaths. She was sore all over and her body refused to comply with her brain's desire to move. Something poked at her side and she opened her eyes. Natasha's concerned face hovered above her, forehead creased.

"You okay?" Natasha said, poking again at Jane's inert body with a finger to be sure nothing was broken, "We can stop practicing take downs and go back to working on holds if you're not ready."

Jane rolled over and got to her feet. "I'm good. Let's try it again."

Natasha still looked a little doubtful. "Don't worry if you don't get this on the first go. Take your time. Batman wasn't created in a day."

Jane put her hands on her hips and blew a sweaty strand of hair out of her eyes. "Did whoever trained you go easy on you?"

Natasha snorted. "Ever see Kill Bill?"

"Yes."

"Well my Master, if he can even be called that, made Pai Mei look like a harmless guppy."

Jane shuddered. "Well, you don't have to go _that_ hard on me."

"If I did, I think Darcy would murder me in my sleep or poison my coffee," Natasha said, chuckling.

Jane didn't argue with her. Her demure little assistant had dark side that had a smart mouth and frequently tasered Thunder Gods.

"Okay, again," Jane said, raising her hands and sinking into a crouch.

Natasha bounced lightly on the balls of her feet and darted towards Jane. Jane's brain registered the fact that Natasha was still moving slow enough for her to still be able to process things, watch the way she moved her feet and used her weight, but she was still incredibly fast. Natasha hooked her arm around Jane's and twisted, thrusting her hip into the astrophysicist's stomach.

Jane tried to grip both of Natasha's wrists and block, but it was too late. Natasha dropped to the mat with a graceful spin, and once again Jane found herself flat on her back on the gym mat. Jane was grateful that Natasha controlled her fall; she'd seen the Black Widow use the very same move to break a man's neck.

"Ouch."

Natasha helped her up and Jane straightened the hem of her black gym capris, shaking her head at the sight of yet another bruise that was forming on her body. Training with Natasha was rough but it also left her exhausted enough to sleep through the night. It left her so sore and tired that her body didn't have the energy to create the nightmares that usually stopped her heart with terror and would yank her from sleep. It was hard, but it was so worth it. She felt stronger and more sure of herself. She knew she was still a tiny fish in the sea of Avengers that could probably take down a dinosaur with their pinky fingers, but it was still a start.

"Okay," Jane said, crouching, "Again."

"Hook your arm," Natasha said, demonstrating the hold, "Use the body's torque to spin and throw so that when you drop down and roll, their own momentum does most of the work for you."

Jane's scientific mind processed the science of it as she flew through the air for the fourth or fifth time, but her practical mind muttered that it was going to be a long time before she stopped getting her ass kicked and started making progress. She landed on the mat hard and the air left her lungs in a woosh.

"You're getting there," Natasha said, trotting over to help her up.

"Be careful. Thor will not be a happy panda if his hunny bunny looks like Mike Tyson after getting knocked out by Buster Douglas. And lemme tell you, you're on your way to it boss lady."

Jane raised her head off of the mat as Natasha extended her hand, and saw Darcy striding into the room, toting a bag of muffins and wearing the rattiest sweater Jane had ever seen.

Darcy's mom made knitted sweaters for her daughter on a regular basis and Jane's assistant refused to get rid of any of them. Therefore Jane thought she knew every single one of them, but this garish purple and pink creation was a new one. Pepper followed Darcy in, expertly balancing several cups of coffee and wearing a very practical looking set of gym clothes consisting of a black spandex top and shorts.

"Break time," Pepper called, "We come bringing breakfast gifts of coffee and muffins."

Jane took her muffin and stuck her face in it, inhaling deeply. Mmm, blueberry goodness made the previously painful and sweaty world she'd been existing in turn to a lovely sugary fruity confection one. The group sprawled out on the mats with their muffins and coffee, and soon Jane's body began to forget that it was being used as a punching bag and instead began to concentrate on breakfast.

"So," Darcy asked, slathering butter on her muffin, "How's my wee grasshopper doing?"

Natasha winked at Jane before answering, "Making progress. She could defend herself admirably against Big Bird should he decide Sesame Street wasn't for him and go into the mercenary business."

"Hey!" Jane said, "I'd like to think I could take on_ all_ of Sesame Street _all_ at the same time."

"I don't know," Pepper said thoughtfully, "The Count would probably challenge you to a numbers game, and Big Bird would molt to create a defensive smoke screen."

Darcy nodded. "I read a blog once that said that Sesame Street was a cover story for a secret government infiltration unit."

Natasha moved on to her second cup of coffee and nodded sagely. "I always knew Elmo was shady."

Jane snorted, her childhood suddenly becoming more convoluted if she factored in the possibility of muppet spies.

"I don't know for sure about the feather screen, but the Count has nothing on me," Jane muttered, "I could number his brains out and then some. I would _destroy_ him with math."

"That, I have no doubt about," Darcy muttered. "Your brain is scary smart."

"Just because I have a PhD in math and astrophysics does _not_ make my brain scary."

Darcy snorted. "Um, it totally does."

Natasha drained her cup and brushed off the muffin crumbs on her red and black leotard. "Okay kiddies, play time is over. Jane, you're running with Pepper. How fast can you do a mile?"

Jane made a valiant effort to swallow the sticky muffin chunk she'd shoved into her mouth when Natasha stood.

"Um, I cahn phiniff won?"

Pepper choked on her coffee. "Well, it's good that you can finish one. We'll time you and see how you do."

"Okay." Jane stood and stretched, working out the kinks her muscles had formed in the brief time she'd been sitting.

Jane followed Pepper out the door, shaking her head. She was glad they were taking this so seriously.

Natasha was willing to take time out of her busy schedule to train her, and now Pepper let her tag along on her morning runs. Their help certainly made her feel better. When she'd initially asked (or rather Darcy had done the asking for her) Natasha to help her, she hadn't thought in a thousand years that Natasha would even say yes or that Pepper would jump on the band wagon as well. Not that she was complaining. Jane had clung to this new budding thing like it was air to breath.

The four women were forming a new camaraderie that was rapidly solidifying into something stronger, a friendship that Jane wouldn't trade for anything.

Her friends got her through her days, and now when she thought she saw green eyes winking at her from her bathroom mirror, she stuck her tongue out at them and mimed a Judo take down.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Nick Fury shut Erik Selvig's white hospital door with a soft click.

The old man had regained consciousness sometime ago, and while he was still not all together there, he did have the best doctors and therapists the world had to offer. Not to mention a new set of teeth.

It wouldn't be long, would not be long until they would understand how Loki's so called 'magic' worked. The war was just beginning. There were reports, rumors brewing of things Nick Fury's practical mind did not want to even consider. But he had to believe them; he couldn't not. Better be prepared for something and have it not happen, than be caught with his pants down.

And Nick Fury did not get caught with his pants down.

The Avengers would need all of the help they could get, if they wanted to survive.

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	11. Chapter 11 Politics and Liquor

**Author's Note:**_ The move Natasha was attempting to teach Jane was a Judo throw called Ippon Seoi Nage. _

_Sorry for the confusion! I shall attempt to describe my battle scenes with more precision. Please continue to let me know what you think! Oh, on another note, totally check out the song Blow Me Away by Breaking Benjamin, featuring Valora. It reminds me of Thor and Jane, silly as that sounds. Anyhoodly, when I write fights scenes with them in it that's what I'm listening to._

_Lols, anyway, thanks for the feedback!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 11: **Politics and Liquor

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"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Jane poked her head into Fury's office, having lost the silent but furious battle she'd just waged with Darcy on who would be the unlucky sod to face Fury's potential and highly likely wrath first.

Fury glanced up from Coulson, who he'd been having a very intense conversation with that involved furious whispers and exuberant hand gestures, and waved them in. Jane and Darcy crept into the tiny office, trying to find a spot that was not occupied by a fierce looking Avengers agent. They were all stuffed into that crowded little room like legos in a little over filled toy box. The two found a spot quickly under Fury's weighted glare and sandwiched themselves in between Hawkeye and Natasha. The two Avengers quickly made room for them, Hawkeye with a bit of an annoyed grunt and Natasha with a tiny encouraging smile.

Jane felt small in the room full of metaphorical giants. All of the heavy hitters the Avengers had were there.

There were the familiar ones: Hawkeye, the Black Widow, Phil Coulson and all of his black suited minions, War Machine, and Iron Man's conspicuously empty chair which Director Fury was occasionally hitting with his hard angry stare. She waited for Stark's vacant chair to become unable to take Fury's dirty looks and burst into flames.

The chair refused to combust however, for which Jane was grateful. If Nick Fury really did have the power to set things on fire with his scowl, she was in deeper trouble than she'd thought. At least she knew she couldn't be toasted; if she could than her head would have been on fire her first day with the Avengers when she tromped into his office in her bathrobe looking for the coffee machine.

On top of the familiar agents, the people Jane worked with on a regular basis, there were the unfamiliar agents: scary looking men and women that she'd only heard whispers about around the coffee machines were standing in a semicircle around the office. They were battle scarred and stern looking. Every single one of them sported the look that they'd seen some tough and hard shit, and Jane felt uncomfortable merely being in the same room with them. She felt like she were a mouse standing next to a bunch of lions.

Each of the black combat gear clad agents looked like they could jump into ice cold water and pull the teeth out of a killer whale and still have enough energy to arm wrestle a bear afterward.

Jane shifted her weight, uncomfortably. Darcy had pulled out her phone and was leaving weird messages on her multitude of friend's Facebook pages.

Once again Jane found herself standing in Director Fury's office, feeling like she was five years old and in trouble with her teacher for stealing chalk. She didn't do well with crowds. She was much more at home in a lab, playing with numbers. Numbers never looked down on her, never informed her that she'd neglected to brush her hair that morning or pointed out the watermelon stains on her clothes. At least she wasn't alone though. She had Darcy with her.

Darcy shoved her phone under Jane's nose. Jane choked.

The photos were of the celebratory drinking party which had taken place at an extremely seedy bar in some small roadside town Jane could barely recall the name of. She regretted that she'd missed out due to being at the ESRF site on the day of the explosion, project blowing up notwithstanding. Each of the raunchy pictures had her trying harder and harder to contain her choking laughter, and she knew it wouldn't be long before Stark's empty chair was off the hook and Nick Fury would be scowling at her instead.

There was a grainy photo of Darcy playing beer pong against the rest of the lab interns, a photo of Darcy winning beer pong, an intern vomiting into the bar's large pineapple shaped planter containing a huge saguaro cactus, Erik and Darcy attempting to see who could down the most tequila shots before saying uncle. Jane's eyes teared up and she ran her fingertips over the image of Erik Selvig's happy face.

How had it gone all wrong?

One moment he'd been her beloved professor, the man who had stepped in after her father had died.

The next moment he'd been chasing her with a dirty potato covered knife. Jane gritted her teeth angrily. This was not Erik Selvig's fault and she did not blame him in the least. Loki was at the heart of this, and Loki would pay. Loki had taken everything from her: he'd taken Erik, he'd taken Thor from her, and she had a sinking suspicion that he'd been partially to blame for the explosion at the ESRF site. Even if it took her a lifetime, she vowed that she would be the one to take him down, no matter what it took.

Dary took her phone back with a smug smile; she'd succeeded in cheering up her boss even if they'd attracted the annoyed attention of Nick Fury in the process.

Fortunately they were saved from his dirty looks as Tony Stark flung open Nick Fury's door with a bang. All of the multitude of commendation plaques and maps on the rich wooden office walls rattled ominously and threatened to fall off. Nick Fury causally caught a paperweight that slipped off of the edge of his desk. A rather harried looking Pepper followed her flamboyant boss in, mouthing apologies over Stark's shoulder at Fury.

"Glad you could join us, Mr. Stark," Fury said, folding his hands, "You're late."

"Fashionably late, I believe."

"Shut up Stark, I'm not in the mood," Fury snapped.

"Yes mother dearest," Stark said, but he said it under his breath.

Fury stood and pinched the bridge of his nose. He paced around the edge of his desk, coming around to lean up against it and crossed his arms, staring around at all of them.

"We have a problem," he said finally.

The room was perfectly quiet. When Fury talked, people listened.

"Erik Selvig has regained consciousness, and he's. He has been able to shed light on a situation we've been aware of for a while: Loki," Nick Fury said, pushing off of his desk and beginning to pace.

Jane wanted badly to ask how Eric was, but now was not the time. She'd tried to get in to see him in the weeks since his incarceration, but with no luck. The agents outside of his room would not let her enter.

"The situation involving Ms. Foster at the hospital was the straw that broke the camel's back and that gave us enough information in order to tie certain events together," Fury said, "The particle patterns that his pocket wormhole emitted are the same ones that tainted the failed ESRF project site, as well as several growing unstable patches around the state of New Mexico."

Jane cleared her throat and raised her hand. "What does that mean?"

"It means, Ms. Foster, that your project was sabotaged," Fury told her, "And it also means that the Avengers will be seeing serious action a lot sooner than I anticipated. Something siphoned power from the ESRF ARC reactor, allowing the wormhole to become unstable."

Jane went cold, but at the same time a fierce sense of pride along with a release of the huge burden of guilt she'd been carrying ran through her. It really _wasn't_ her fault that all of those people were dead. This confirmed it. She would still do her best to avenge their deaths, but the overwhelming guilt was no longer weighing on her. She was free. She took a deep breath and released it, suddenly feeling much lighter. Darcy squeezed her shoulder, understanding completely.

"I knew it," Stark muttered, "My ARC reactor _did_ have enough power. Rhodes you owe me fifty bucks."

"You bet on that tragedy?" Pepper hissed, "Shame on you both!" She smacked both men upside the head with the back of her clipboard.

Fury coughed and Pepper stopped beating Rhodes and Stark, and folded her hands looking ashamed of herself. Stark grinned and kissed her cheek and she turned even redder. Rhodes rolled his eyes.

"If you're done..." Fury growled.

Pepper nodded empathetically. "Sorry Mr. Fury."

"We know Loki fell to Earth," Fury continued, deep voice a low rumble that reminded Jane of a crocodile lurking under the surface of a body of water, waiting for something unsuspecting and fluffy to come for a drink.

"We don't know why. All we have to go off of are a series of events that ended in tragedy involving him, along with the Norse mythos. Everyone standing here in this room are the leaders of all of the Avengers projects and task forces. You are in charge of your teams, and you are the first lines of defense. Agent Phil Coulson's team, along with myself, will be tasked with the actual bringing Loki down. Dead or alive, it really doesn't matter to me. The rest of you will be vigilant in your jobs. This little bastard is screwing with us, and we didn't even get kissed first. You see anything, notice anything, you shoot him or bring your information to us. He thinks that this is a game, that we're the entertainment. Well that is not the case. Whatever game he's playing, we ruin it. Is that clear?" Nick Fury snarled, coming about to face the room, hands clasped behind his back.

The report was a resounding "SIR" that rumbled the room and the walls. All of the military men and women saluted, heels making a unified muffled clicking noise on the carpet.

Nick Fury saluted them back, "You all are dismissed. Stark, Natasha, Jane, stay here please."

The room gradually emptied save for Stark, the Black Widow, Jane, along with Pepper and Darcy. Both assistants figured it was better for their bosses if they were there. One stayed because her boss regularly had panic attacks over numbers and forgot to eat, the other stayed because her boss couldn't help annoying Nick Fury and causing catastrophes. Priorities, priorities.

Phil Coulson shooed his cronies out of the office and closed the door behind them.

"Do you have the cloak?" Nick Fury asked Stark.

Stark looked at Pepper who rolled her eyes and withdrew a length of familiar scarlet cloth from where it had been folded into her briefcase. Pepper shook it out and the rich red fabric rolled out over the faded grey carpet of Fury's office in a huge velvet wave. Jane couldn't stop herself and she caught up a bit of it and rubbed it in between her thumb and forefinger. The feel of the thick material between her fingers made her go all fuzzy inside. Fury had taken it away from her when she'd got out of the hospital for 'testing', but she'd like to see him try take it away from her again. Well, he probably would have no problem prying it from her cold dead fingers if he wanted to, but still. It was the thought that counted.

"You had a look at it Mr. Stark," Fury said, leaning back against his desk again and steepling his fingers together. Complete with furrowed brow, he looked oddly like Mr. Burns.

Stark looked at him blankly.

"Your report, Stark," Fury fairly growled.

Tony Stark flashed him a winsome grin, "Oh is _that_ what you wanted?"

Behind Stark, Pepper groaned and banged her head against her clipboard a few times.

Tony coughed and muttered, "Jarvis?"

A clear polite British voice filled the room, and Darcy swooned a bit. "As per Mr. Stark's instructions, the alien fabric was tested extensively. It has a great tolerance for destruction. It was struck directly with a KA-BAR Mule and the fabric succeeded in deflecting the blade. It also managed to deflect several low caliber bullets. A complete list of those weapons used in testing has been sent to your PDA, Director Fury. It also showed a high a high heat tolerance of-"

"Good god, what did you two do to it?" Jane muttered, suddenly glad that Thor's cloak had not spent longer in Stark's not so tender mercies.

Jarvis heard her. "Mr. Stark overruled many of my testing methods after the initial lab results came back on the actual make up of the cloak, and decided to oversee its testing himself."

"I poked it a few times with a fork, too," Stark told her cheerfully, "You're safe from any salad utensils when you sleep with this, Ms. Foster."

Jane stuck her tongue out at him. Jerk.

"In summary, the Asgard material in this fabric is unlike anything on this Earth," Jarvis surmised, "It is stronger and more durable than most of the body armor the US military employs."

Well, duh. The Asgard were an advanced alien race that had been traveling the Universe before humanity crawled out of the primordial soup. Their underwear could probably thwart a small missile.

Jane wanted to shake Stark and settled for clutching the red folds to her instead. She had a suspicion that he'd been so mean to it just to have something to entertain himself with.

Pepper leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Don't blame Jarvis, technically he has to do whatever Stark tells him."

Jane grumbled under her breath, still not mollified. The logical and scientific end of her brain registered the fact that the Avengers had been tasked with protecting the interests and rights of the people of Earth. Therefor they had to utilize all of the tools at their disposal in order to ensure the safety of the planet. However, the quiet corner in her mind where she was head over heels for a tall devilishly charming Thunder God was having a fit over the fact that the very last physical reminder she had of him had been left at the hands of a rich megalomaniac too smart for his own good and had a penchant for extreme experimentation.

Jane wound the cloak around her, burying her face in the soft fabric and vowing silently to take better care of it.

Fury rolled his eyes as Jane turned herself into a bright red burrito. "Ms. Foster, you are still to go ahead with the ESRF project. With a confrontation on the horizon with Loki, we need to contact the Asgard. If they will not assist us, they can at the very least clean up their mess. Mr. Stark you are tasked with the creation of a new ARC reactor-"

Stark shook his head. "That Peunte Antiguo ARC was a one time deal. We literally don't have enough material to make another one."

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose again and sighed. "I'm aware, Mr. Stark. All the same, though, we must find a way to contact Asgard. They are best equipped to deal with the issue. They dumped Loki here, I'd rather not have to send my men and women to their deaths to handle a 'god' with abandonment issues."

Stark, for once a snappy comeback not forthcoming, nodded.

"Natasha, you will continue to oversee the safety of this team. It is imperative that your guard is not let down. Loki isn't done, not by a long shot. He'll come back and I don't want any other problems."

Natasha nodded sharply, red curls swaying to frame her heart shaped face. She didn't look at all like the trained killer she was, but Jane was certain they'd be safe under her watchful eye. Natasha didn't miss much, and while Tony Stark was a mad man when it came to relationships and his personal life, he was still a formidable opponent as Iron Man. Now that the team knew Loki was coming and had an idea for how he worked, the Norse Trickster would have a harder time causing mischief.

Natasha and Stark would keep them safe, and Jane would do her best to outsmart the Norse Trickster. Her brains were the only weapon she currently had, and she'd put them to good use. She had an idea, a little thought that tickled the back of her mind. Since Loki liked pocket universes and wormholes so much...no, it was just a thought. No need to voice it yet, but the plans were already forming in her head and she couldn't wait to get back to the drawing board in her trailer.

Nick Fury wrapped things up with a few last instructions, then dismissed them. Jane had to struggle to keep herself from running. There were plans to make and Gods to thwart.

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"I'm thinking the New York cheese cake with a milkshake," Darcy said, eyes squinting at menu's flowery cursive writing.

"Ew! For lunch?" Pepper said. She peered at her own menu, "Their French Onion bread bowl looks much more practical."

Jane was slightly cheesed that her diabolical plan would have to wait until after lunch.

Pepper and Darcy had decided that after a meeting like that, food was in order along with the possibility of liquor. Natasha and Jane, being too close to the plotting duo, had been dragged along for the ride.

The four women were sitting outdoors in the sunshine at the Lazy Cat Cafe, a tiny little restaurant that would look more in place tucked in a little Parisian side street rather than smack in the middle of down town Puente Antiguo. The marble tiled patio that their little table was perched on was surrounded by flowers, mainly roses. The heady scented scarlet blossoms nodded their giant gossamer heads in the breeze, filling the warm air with their fragrance. The lacy looking umbrella above the white linen covered table did nothing to shield them from the afternoon sun, but then again no one was complaining. It was a lovely day. The patio was filled with other little tables and other customers, the quiet murmur of their conversation rounding out the peaceful atmosphere.

"But it has that coolio chocolate butterfly drizzled on it," Darcy argued.

Pepper looked over Darcy's shoulder, still looking dubious, "I don't know."

"_And_ it has blackberries the size of my thumb."

"Alright, you've sold me. But after lunch."

"Ah, poop."

Jane snorted, shaking her head. "I'm siding with Pepper. I am not one of those girls that can eat a slab of cheesecake and pretend it hasn't gone straight to my ass. Bread bowl it is."

"You're my boss, lady, you're supposed to side with me," Darcy said plaintively, and then looked round at Natasha for support, "It will _not_ go to my ass."

Natasha took a deep slurp from the elaborately twisted straw that was plunked into an absolutely divine looking chocolate Mudslide. "I have no idea what you guys are talking about. I'm staying out of this one."

"Psh, fine," Darcy said. She waved a hand at the waiter who wasted no time in gliding over to their table in his black slacks and crisp white shirt, pen and paper at the ready.

Jane cocked her head, trying to figure out how the slight New Mexico breeze wasn't sending him bouncing off down the street like a tumbleweed; the man was rail thin and probably weighed as much as her head. Asking him how he stayed glued to the ground would probably run the chance of getting their food spit into however, so she stayed silent.

After a long moment of indecision, multiple changed orders, and flashing of ID's he trotted off for three French Onion bread bowls, a glass of some fruity white local wine for Pepper, a traditional Margarita on the rocks for Jane, and a Screwdriver for Darcy. If the waiter thought anything of the fact that their drinks did not match at all with their lunches, he chose not to comment which spoke volumes for the professional air of the Lazy Cat.

Jane stretched, enjoying the summer breeze snaking through the outdoor cafe.

It really was a lovely day. Maybe she'd even get a tan in. Then a newspaper lying abandoned on a nearby table caught her eye. She waited for a moment to see if anyone would claim it, then snatched it off the table. It had been a while since she'd actually had time to even read a newspaper, let alone sit at a cafe to peruse one at her leisure. The conversation had lulled so she figured she was alright in picking it up for a bit, and that it would not be rude.

It was a New York newspaper, _The Daily Bugle_, which Jane had never heard of. It was odd that it was discarded at a New Mexico cafe table.

Jane snapped it open and scanned the main page.

She started, then recoiled at the headline and looked around at her companions. They were still quiet, tranquil, enjoying the sunlight. She opened her mouth but was interrupted by the timely arrival of their waiter.

Their drinks arrived along with their food, and it took him a moment to unload everything from his fancy little cart, ask them whether they required anything else, and then take off.

"Have you heard anything about this?" Jane asked, showing the others the front page.

The other three took a moment to study it. **SKINWALKER STRIKES AGAIN** was emblazoned across the cover in bold letters, under which in smaller print **Spider Man Stays Silent** was added in almost like an afterthought.

Darcy's brow wrinkled. "Who's Spider Man? A serial killer?"

Natasha snorted. "Hardly. He's New York's champion, beating the snot out of petty criminals and the occasional big time bad guy. Director Fury has been trying to recruit him for years, but the guy is very good at covering his tracks. He's like a ghost, and Fury doesn't want to waste the money and man power it would take to actually hunt him down."

"Spiders are icky."

Pepper leaned forward, scanning the article and murmuring as she read, "The paper says a serial killer...hmm- Ew! The killer apparently skins people and pulls out the teeth, proving identification to be nearly impossible if there is no DNA on file and no next of kin. Ugh, charming."

Jane tapped the paper, "Feds say here that the killer was traced to moving down the East Coast, across the US. They think the killer could be in New Mexico now."

"Huh, is that so," Natasha said, leaning forward to tug the paper towards her, "Those kinds of murderers usually have a territory that they haunt. Odd that they would leave. It could be a false lead. I find it strange that Spider Man hasn't taken care of this guy, he's usually quite punctual in meting out justice to the wrong doers in his city."

The group was quiet a moment, sipping their drinks and staring at the paper on the center of the table. It looked innocent enough, but from the way they were regarding it it could have been a ticking radioactive bomb that could have reduced the city to dust. Jane shivered, the weather was still warm but there was a chill prickling at the base of her spine. She hoped that this wasn't another problem on the horizon for them. There was the issue with Loki, and this just seemed like another ill omen hanging over their team.

She wondered how many metaphorical black cats would cross their paths before their time was up.

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_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12 Drama Most Foul and Robots

**Author's Note:** _I don't know if any of you watch StarGate SG-1, but I had a whole lot of fun writing the 'We-need-to-contact-the-Asgard' sentences. Heh. _

_Anyhoodly, sorry this is coming along so slow. Between school and work and trying to clean up this fic, it's taking me a while to crank stuff out. So I've decided to leave it alone for now. Updates will continue, but I'm not going to clean it up. It'll take too long. Sorry to those of you who are unhappy for the content quality, but I'm tired and I'm also incredibly lazy. Life is hectic, so please be patient. I'll probably do an official revamp when Captain America comes out, and school is out until fall. Until then, please suffer through my tendency to make literary mistakes (^_-)_

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you!_

_Warning: Sometimes my humor is a little crud. You've been warned._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing. I don't own Thor, Marvel, or any other references to films, video games, or anything else you may spot. I don't own it; nope, not mine._

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**Chapter 12: **Drama Most Foul and Robots

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Sif stalked the golden halls of Asgard, sharp eyes peeled for any evidence of her errant husband-to-be.

Her eyes slide from the golden artfully scallop patterned walls to the wide windows that showed the rolling glimmering city spread out beneath the great castle. Thor was no where to be found; he was hiding from her again. Thor often managed to avoid her these days with a skill that was down right frightening. When she'd enter a room, he'd be just leaving, and he avoided the place that was to be their new chambers like the plague, choosing to sleep outside or in random closets rather than with her. The Thunder God was known for his prowess and tenacity on the battle field, and the idea of him hiding from anything was extremely funny. If she wasn't so angry with him she'd be laughing at the thought of the mighty Thor hiding from a girl.

Except the girl he was hiding from was her.

He _knew_ how she felt about him; she'd poured her heart out to him a couple of days ago.

The memory of their kiss assaulted her, and her cheeks quickly gained a rosy hue. She'd practically jumped him that day in his bedroom, though the feeling of his mouth against hers had been everything she'd ever dreamed of and more.

Sif strode over to one of the windows and settled onto the warm cream colored stone. The wind tousled her dark hair and she drew her knees up to her chest, tucking the gauzy hem of her dress around her to keep it from blowing haphazardly around in the breeze that lazily licked the sides of the castle. She was high up, and the people in the streets below looked like little dolls, but she still didn't want to risk showing all of Asgard what underwear she'd decided to wear that day.

Sif rested her head on her knees, closing her eyes. Once again Thor's stricken face passed before her mind's eye, and she winced. She honestly couldn't say why she'd done it, confessed her feelings to him like she did and kissed him. She certainly hadn't been intending to when she got up that morning, that's for certain.

Sif had been in love with Thor ever since they were kids. He'd been the only one to see her warrior's soul for what it was.

She sighed, thoughts dancing back to days when things were much more simple.

_'Sif! What are you doing?'_

_Sif guiltily dropped her father's halberd at the sight of her mother striding towards her, doing a fairly acceptable impression of Skoll bearing down on the moon. Oops. Her little six year old body had been struggling to hold the great weapon but she'd managed to take a good swing with it. She couldn't help but glow with pride. No one else her age would be able to boast of such an accomplishment._

_'I'm sorry, Modir,' Sif warbled, when she saw the look of frustration on her mother's face, 'I was practicing, but did you see? I swung it!'_

_'Sif, we have talked of this! You know better, it is not our way!' her mother said, exasperated._

_Sif balled up her little fists, unable to stop the tears welling up in her eyes. Her mother didn't understand, it just wasn't fair. Mother wanted her to sit still and learn the ways of the hearth and the home, but it was_ so_ boring. The sewing thread would always tangle and the needles pricked her fingers, and anything she cooked always came out burned. Housework was stupid._

_'You don't understand, Modir! You never have! I hate you!'_

_'Wait, Sif-'_

_Sif turned and ran as fast as her little legs would carry her. Her mother would never understand, never accept her. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she ran until she couldn't run any farther. She slumped to the ground and looked around blearily. She was in Indun's garden. The wide expanse of greenery never ceased to amaze her, and the solemn air of the majestic garden quieted her fast racing heart. Indun didn't suffer trespassers into her garden lightly, but Sif doubted that she'd notice one kid. Besides, she wasn't anywhere near the apple tree, so she figured she'd be fine._

_Sif sniffled and crawled under a hydrangea bush, fully intending to have a good cry. Her mother would never miss her; she didn't want a daughter who was more interested in war than in the home._

_'Why are you crying, ugly?'_

_Sif poked her head out of the hydrangea bush and was surprised to find an extremely grubby looking boy her age staring belligerently back at her. His blond hair was shaggy and uncut and there were burrs stuck in his golden locks. His face was smeared with mud, and there was a dark streak under his nose where he'd rubbed at it with the back of his hand._

_Sif giggled. He had a villain moustache made of dirt._

_'What are you laughing at, ugly?'_

_Sif stuck her tongue out at him. 'Ugly yourself! I'm not the one who's covered in mud! So there!'_

_He grinned, an evil little boy glint in his eye. Sif soon had a huge spatter of mud sticking to the front of her dress. 'Look who's talking, ugly, you've got mud on you too.'_

_'You jerk!' she shrieked._

_The boy looked rather pleased with himself. Sif was furious, and saw quickly that he wasn't really paying attention to her. He obviously wasn't expecting a girl to attack him. Sif wasn't just any girl, however. She flew at him angrily, more incensed that he'd managed to get the jump on her rather than dirty her dress. There was a tussle, a confused muddy pile of arms and legs and swearing. Sif came out on top though. She sat on his lungs and triumphantly rubbed mud into his hair and crowed her victory._

_He threw her off, but she was still laughing. 'You're pretty good,' he admitted grudgingly, 'You can play with us if you want.'_

_Sif had been glowing at her triumph, but at his words and the sight of his companions rushing up to them she sobered. She suddenly knew who this boy was: Thor, Odin AllFather's heir. The dirt threw her off, but the pale skinny kid that skidded to a halt next to Thor could be non other than Loki SilverTongue. He frowned at her, obviously wondering what she was doing fighting with Odin's get. Sif shivered. She did not want to be on Loki's bad side. His green eyes gave her the creeps, and unfortunate things always seemed to happen to his enemies. Shouts followed them, Hogun and Volstagg were not far behind._

_Sif slumped. She was doomed to be a lady. There was no other path for her to follow. 'I can't,' she mumbled._

_'Why?' Thor insisted._

_'Because, I'm a girl.'_

_'So?' Thor said, 'Who cares?'_

_Sif opened her mouth, fully intending to say everyone, but then she stopped. Who did care? Who would care? She squared her little shoulders. She'd show that royal brat, and everybody else, that she was just as good as a boy. They'd never know what hit them._

_Sif punched Thor on the shoulder. 'Nobody, that's who. Race you to the Hall, fatty.'_

_'Get back here, ugly!_'

Sif grinned. Those were the days.

She had never fit in with the other girls. Sif had been more concerned with winning the war games with the boys, rather than learning the various herbs and embroidery lessons that the Asgardian girls were all supposed to be proficient with. All Asgard women could draw a sword and knew the art, but in the end the battlefield was for the men. Everyone understood that and accepted that. Just not Sif. She'd thought it when she was six, and she certainly thought it now: housework was stupid.

Thor had been the only one to accept her, to let her tag along.

Somewhere along the way between the various battles and all the feasting and drinking, her feelings had blossomed from an intense respect and friendship to love.

Underneath all of that overconfidence and pigheadedness Thor had a heart of gold. He'd sacrifice anything for his friends and he always had a kind word for her when she was down. Sif had followed him with the blind gratitude that his generosity had earned when she was a child, and that gratitude had turned into something more throughout the ages that she'd been at his side. He had earned her loyalty and her heart; she'd die for him.

Thor's time on the Terran planet had changed him, though.

He'd become quieter, not quite brooding but he certainly thought his actions through now before he did them. Sif knew what was the cause of that: the human girl that had sheltered Thor in his exile and had somehow won the Thunder God's heart. Though she'd only met Jane Foster for a moment, she'd been struck by the woman's soft beauty and blazing spirit. Jane Foster was tiny and diminutive, but she had a fierce tenacity that rivaled Thor's. In the short time Thor had been on Earth the woman named Jane had changed Thor and softened his heart.

Sif pressed her hands to her face. If only _she'd_ been able to accompany Thor in his exile and stand by his side, maybe she could have showed him, _really_ showed him, her feelings. Instead he'd fallen for a backwater mortal maiden who now held his heart all those worlds away. In her panic at losing any chance with him she'd confessed her feelings for him in his chambers like a complete bonehead.

She dropped her hands and bumped her head against the stone wall behind her a few times. Ugh, what a mess.

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Pepper carefully navigated the stairs down to Stark's basement workshop, balancing a tea tray with two coffees on it: a nonfat Irish Cream Latte for her and a black Americano with cream and sugar for him.

The delicate china mugs didn't wobble in the least as she expertly switched hands to key in the code on the door. The door hummed softly as it accepted her code. It swished open with a soft hiss and Pepper walked towards her boss, stepping around all of the parts and various bits of metal that he had strewn around his work place. Pepper sighed as she hopped over what looked like an engine with ears, and thinking not for the first time that Tony Stark was not a tidy man.

The man in question was bent over his cluttered worktable, tinkering with something and arguing with Jarvis.

"_Sir...that addition is entirely unnecessary, and also disgusting. If you would just-_"

"Bah. Quit yer worryin', once you actually have hands,_ then_ you can do something about it. Until then, shut up."

"What are you doing?" Pepper asked, wishing she'd thought to grab scones. Her stomach was growling.

Jarvis often wasn't certain on many of the things Tony did, but this was the first time she'd ever scene the non-corporeal butler actually argue with Stark, at least after the first initial warning. Pepper peered around Stark's shoulder anxiously. Hopefully it wasn't anything illegal. She could only hope, anyway. Telling Tony Stark 'no' was like asking a hurricane to please get out of the way of the sun so beautiful blue skies could happen instead of torrential thunderstorms.

Pepper started in surprise at the thing on the table, but a composure honed after several years in Stark's employ kept her from dropping the tea tray. She carefully set the tray down next to him, then bent for a closer look at his latest creation. Most of it was a hapazard jumble of parts, but the general shape was still that of a man lying prone on Stark's work table.

"What are you doing?" Pepper asked again, amazed, "Are you building another suit?"

"Kinda. Using an old prototype, anyway. I'm building Captain Picky Pants here a body," Stark said, snagging his coffee and dumping half the silver container of cream into it. He tipped the sugar bowl and emptied it. Pepper was glad she'd thought to bring extra and hoped that Stark wouldn't give himself diabetes. The man consumed far too much sugar to be healthy.

"_I'm not picky! Mr. Stark thinks to add that- that thing to it_." The usually unflappable Jarvis sounded downright distressed.

"What 'thing'," Pepper asked, narrowing her eyes at Stark who looked back at her innocently.

Stark pointed his cup at a box lying on the table. It was a bright, bright pink and the huge lettering across the top said 'Madame PussyCat's Exciting Emporium of Fun Toys and Gifts for Adults'. Pepper's mouth dropped open at the woman with generous bosoms embossed on the cover. She was clad in something bright red and furry, and cat ears peeked out of her curly auburn hair. Pepper used a screw driver to pop open the lid for a look, there was no way she'd touch that box with her skin. Icky.

She caught a glimpse of something long and purple that vibrated when she touched it.

Pepper dropped the screwdriver. "Ew! Oh my god Tony that is disgusting!"

"He needs to learn to live a little," Stark said, "I'm equipping him. Pun intended."

"Blech, gross. Poor Jarvis. He is not a toy!" Pepper yelled.

"Heh, you said toy."

"Tony, some days you seriously try my patience," Pepper told him. She stabbed the gross package with a crowbar, and with it dangling from the tip like a bomb she carried it over to the incinerator, where it went up in flames in a satisfying _woomph_.

She grabbed an old magazine, rolled it up, and smacked Stark in the back of the head with it. "Be nice."

"Woof."

Pepper rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "Ugh, I give up."

"Hah! I win!"

She sank onto the stool next to him and cradled her latte. Stark went back to tinkering with the body on the table, and for a little while it was quiet save for the sounds of him working and Jarvis's occasional suggestion.

Pepper smiled at his back. She loved moments like these, the quiet companionship of sitting with Stark in his lab. It was like the eye of a storm of the constant media, attacking villains, and outstanding drama. Stark was a immature, disgustingly rich egomaniac, but he was her immature disgustingly rich ego maniac. She wouldn't trade him for the world.

"Why are you building Jarvis a body?" Pepper asked finally, "This wasn't necessary before. Jarvis is perfectly able to handle things as he is."

Stark dropped his tools with a muffled curse as something sparked, and he stuck his electrocuted finger in his mouth. He rolled his chair over to Pepper's and pulled her into his lap. She squeaked in surprise but made no move to dislodge him. He leaned back against the wall and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the soft hum of the Arc Reactor that kept him alive.

"It was Fury's idea," Stark said, depositing his mug on the table so he could run his hand through her ginger hair, "He still thinks we can make it to Asgard, and he wants to be prepared for contact in the event that we do."

"Mmm." He was turning her to putty and she could barely form a coherent thought.

"Magic fingers," Stark said, tickling her.

Pepper snorted. She propped her elbow up on his shoulder and looked back over at the body on the table, "What does Jarvis having legs have to do with it?"

"_Director Fury seeks to have me as his formal Ambassador for the people of Earth to the Asgard_," Jarvis said, having listened in on the conversation.

Stark nodded sagely. "That's the general gist of it, yeah."

"And the best we have to offer is Jarvis?" Pepper asked, sipping her latte.

"_I take offense to that, Miss Potts,_" Jarvis said indignantly.

"Yep. Apparently he's the least likely to piss off anyone, and he's the smartest we got what with the perfect computer memory and all."

"Ah. Good plan."

"_I'd like to think that I was chosen for my astounding sense of character and extreme competence,_" Jarvis muttered.

Stark chuckled and reached forward and slapped the shoulder of the prone robot on the table affectionately. "Keep thinkin' that ol' buddy ol' pal. You're chosen cause Fury has better things to do, Banner can't keep a lid on the Jolly Green Giant, and I upset people for some reason."

"_Upset is a light term for it, Mr. Stark_."

"Shut up, Jarvis."

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_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13 Romance Novels and Squabbling

**Author's Note:** _A lot of people don't care for the fact that Thor isn't setting Sif on fire and racing back to Jane. While the Thor/Jane happy ending will indeed happen, I promise, for now it's being drawn out. Thor has to be diplomatic about the entire situation, he is in fact the Asgard King in Waiting after all (^_^)_

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you, your reviews make my day and it's why I keep at this!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing. I don't own Thor, Marvel, or any other references to films, mythology, video games, or anything else you may spot. I don't own it; nope, not mine._

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**Chapter 13:** Romance Novels and Squabbling

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_Miss Kiki shrank away from Lord Damien's advances, flushed and ample bosom heaving with emotion._

_She should not be here, not with him. His hand reached out to her, pulling her against his heavily muscled and broad chest. She blushed, heart pounding in tune with the rhythm of his own. The rhythm of love. His dark smoldering eyes peered into her very soul. She found herself panting for him. He wasn't the man her family had intended for her. It was so wrong, and yet- it felt so right. She looked up at him, plump lips parting. His left hand cupped the back of her head, and his right slid up under her silk chemise and-_

"Take that, you cross dressing creep!"

Darcy looked up from her romance novel just in time to see Jane spin and slam her elbow into the swinging blue punching bag.

Darcy set her book down with a sigh and reached for her chips. She watched her boss attempt to do serious damage to the punching bag Natasha had set up in the gym, and reflected privately to herself that it was a becoming a good possibility that Loki was going to regret frightening the crap out of Jane Foster. Natasha had recently deemed Jane at least proficient enough in the Judo throws they'd been practicing to move on to other things. Now it was kick boxing.

Darcy cheered her on as Jane landed a roundhouse near the top of the bag. "Closer that time, boss lady! You looked almost as good as Natasha."

Jane slumped. "Almost as good, huh? Just almost?"

Darcy opened her bag of potato chips and tossed a handful into her mouth, chewing noisily. "You're getting there, keep practicing!"

Jane resumed beating up the poor bag with a will.

Darcy chuckled, though didn't pick her book back up and instead looked mournfully at the cover. A very busty looking Miss Kiki was fairly close to popping out of her corset and was being embraced by a roguish looking gentlemen with an eye patch, whom Darcy assumed was Lord Damien. It was an exceptionally good novel, and Darcy was loathe to leave it.

Jane, however, drew her attention.

Her boss was getting almost scary these days. Jane mumbled to herself a lot, forgot to eat more often than not, and randomly challenged the poor agents Phil Coulson had set to guard her and the other techies to see if she was 'improving'. Granted, Natasha had set her up to it, saying that experiencing different fighting styles would help improve her skill set, but still. She'd even kicked poor Hawkeye in the head after the man had agreed to join their workout. Hawkeye had been a champ out it, and Darcy was surprised he'd taken it so well, but then he'd retaliated by shooting Jane in the butt with a dart covered in Ghost Pepper hot sauce.

That had been hilarious.

Darcy contemplated her tasty sour cream an' onion chips, wondering if her boss was going to try to get him back. Oh well, at least it kept all of them in shape.

Jane hit the bag again, not noticing that her knuckles were beginning to look distinctly bruised. Darcy picked up the medical tape. Jane wouldn't listen to her about cutting down on the practicing, but if she kept trying to do damage to herself Darcy would sit on her.

"Bring it in, Ninja Warrior. Lemme see your hands."

When Darcy had applied to be Dr. Foster's assistant what seemed like ages ago, she'd thought that the diminutive little scientist would be an easy grade and nothing more.

Since then, Jane had become both her mentor and her best friend. If she were on the outside looking in, she would have said such a friendship would not have even been possible; they were two completely different people from opposite ends of the human spectrum. Jane was driven, and often anal about her research whereas Darcy was as carefree as they came. But still, they had formed a friendship that had been forged in trial and in hardship, and had come out the better for it.

Jane winced as Darcy bound her bruised hands. "Ouch! Who taught you to tie knots? A monkey?"

"Oh quite your whining. Viking ladies are supposed to be tough, on top of popping out the sons every birthing season."

"Shut it, you."

Darcy snickered. "Seriously, though, I think we'd better give that poor bag a break. Besides, I overheard Coulson telling Hawkeye where they moved Erik. We can go see him!"

Jane tapped her chin thoughtfully, "We'll have to wait until the agents switch. Cale and Garrett spend way too much time talking. We can sneak out then."

Darcy snagged a health poster off of the wall, flipped it over, then produced a purple Mr. Sketch marker and began scribbling a map. Jane leaned forward, peering over her shoulder. Darcy tucked a straggling curl up into her knitted cap and jabbed the marker tip at her map.

"Eriks's here, and word on the street is he's only got one guard this time."

Jane chuckled. "Word on the eavesdropping vine, you mean."

"Eh. Potato, po-tah-toe. Point is, we can see him. Finally get some answers. And I can give him flowers!"

Jane smiled at the mention of flowers. Darcy's idea of flowers didn't stop at a single vase. She just hoped Erik didn't have any secret plant allergies. They were quiet for a moment, each contemplating their own thoughts while they waited for the guard switch. The thick plastic clock on the wall, so out of place and unprofessional looking in the S.H.E.I.L.D base, kept the seconds time with loud clunky ticks. Darcy flipped up the map and took a deep whiff of the drawing.

"Nice," Jane said.

"I know, it smells delicious. I love Mr. Sketch. Grape heaven."

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Thor strode to the throne room, his steady pace belying none of the irritation and fatigue the Thunder God was currently plagued with. The golden halls of Asgard, visible symbols of home and tranquility, now appeared to him as a gilded cage.

Sif walked quietly at his side. She was clad in an official crimson brocade, an appropriate garment of one who would be future queen of the Asgard. Thor glanced sideways at her.

'_Except_,' he thought, '_he didn't_ want _her to be his queen_.'

Sif was a viable warrior on the battle field, and a very beautiful woman. There was no contesting that. But, he felt nothing for her.

His thoughts moved to Jane, and a sudden view of her in that same royal robes danced across his mind's eye. Thor blushed in spite of himself. She would look lovely in the Asgard colors. Thor glanced at Sif again, to see if she registered the direction of his thoughts. She hadn't, and he couldn't help but sigh with relief. The last thing he needed was another fight. They fought far too much these days.

Thor sighed again. He would much rather live out his days as a normal man alongside Jane Foster, grow old and die with her, than rule the ages at Asgard's helm without her. That short time he'd had with her on Earth, when he'd believed that he'd be a mortal man at her side for the rest of his life…he'd been happy. It had been a true happiness that he hadn't experienced since he was a child. Jane Foster made him happy, he realized with a start. He loved her, was in love with her.

Thor almost stopped. He loved Jane Foster. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Jane Foster with her warm brown eyes, lighting wit and gentle heart. He loved Jane.

Thor made a vow then and there: he strode the halls of Asgard for now, and he'd set up a ruler to guard his people for all time, but he would return to Jane before the year was up. He would not suffer an eternity without her, not if she felt the same for him. He had to know.

Thor entered the throne room and his people parted like ice melting before a flame to let him pass. Thor settled on the throne. Sif stood behind him. He could imagine the picture they presented to the cheering crowd: he young and full of new power, she ethereal and beautiful. He grimaced inwardly. It was a match made in heaven. Not.

He sighed. _Let's get this over with_. He flicked his fingers and two men peeled themselves from the crowd and knelt before him. He had three challenges, twelve petitions, and eight informal sessions to sit through before he could be free to seek his rest. Ugh, it never rained in Asgard, it poured.

"You Njord, overlord of oceans, have challenged Hermod the brave. For what purpose?" Thor intoned. He knew full well why they were standing there in front of all of Asgard. He didn't want to be here overseeing these stupid challenges, but he had to. Might as well make them feel like idiots while he was at it.

Njord coughed and Hermod shuffled his feet sheepishly.

"He seduced my serving wench!" Njord said finally, his insulted pride finally winning over his embarrassment.

"She liked it, fish breath," Hermod snapped.

"Have at you, you prancing nancy," Njord snarled, drawing his sword, "We shall see if all those nights romancing your ale mug has helped your fighting arm any."

"Nya! Nya! Keep talking, it prolongs your life! Can't catch me, barnacle brain!"

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. It was going to be a long, long evening.

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_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14 Hospital Returns and Beaches

**Author's Note:** _I've been watching Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan on Hulu, and it's surprisingly good. The soundtrack is fantastic. It's been a while since I've had a good anime to sink my teeth into, yay! Lol, I'm suffering in the throws of Hayao Miyasaki film withdrawal, and I need something new. On the other hand I'm stoked at all the E3 games they unveiled. I know it was a while ago, but still. I'm stoked to get my hands on Overstrike. And anyone who enjoys BioShock or Silent Hill or Final Fantasy, totally check out the game trailer for A Secret World. I think that is the game I'm most looking forward to._

_Anyhoodly, it's awesome to hear from you guys! This chapter was a doozy, please drop me a review to let me know whatcha think!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 14:** Hospital Returns and Beaches

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Jane held her breath as she and Darcy slunk past Cale and Garrett, hardly daring to breath for fear they'd be heard. They were so close, Jane could have plucked the loose threads hanging off of Garrett's sleeve if she'd wanted to. The two men, for all of their big muscles and ferocious attitudes, were closet nerds however. They were busy discussing last night's episode of The Walking Dead, and the two women crept away without being seen.

"Whew," Darcy said, as they made it out the door of the compound, "I thought we'd have been goners for sure."

"Bah," Jane muttered, "We're too awesome."

Darcy quirked an eye at her. "Uh huh. Whatever you say, captain."

Jane looked ruefully down at the black spandex sweat pants that hugged her thighs and flared out slightly to her ankles, just barely covering her white and black converse sneakers. Her deep red tank top fit her like a glove, completing her gym ensemble. She was grateful that she was wearing what she was; they had a long day ahead of them in order to reach the hospital. It was going to be a long and sweaty hike into Puente Antiguo.

The compound wasn't necessarily well guarded to the people that were _supposed_ to be there, though, they wouldn't be given a ride out to town should they just ask for one. Coulson would have their butts right back in the lab, as bothering Erik Selvig in his top secret hospital room was apparently a matter of national security.

Jane snorted at that particular thought. As if.

Darcy, though she never attacked Natasha's regimen with the same amount of ferocity as her boss, was wearing athletic attire as well. Though hers were a tad less practical in their appearance, opting for a more flamboyant approach. Darcy's violent purple shorts were a bit on the skin tight end of the spectrum, with the words '_politically sound_' stamped across the derriere in white calligraphy. A fuchsia colored sports bra barely kept her ample chest in check, though the various male agents they walked past couldn't help themselves but do double takes.

"Good god Darcy," Jane said, exasperated, after the second male soldier in a row bumped into something after spending too long oogling her assistant's assets, "That one walked into a light pole."

Darcy giggled. "I know. I just can't help it. It's so funny."

Jane rolled her eyes. She wanted to find something to go bang her forehead into, several times and hard. Maybe that gentlemen would consent to share his light pole.

"Hey," Darcy said, "You have to admit, we are just waltzing out of here. At least they're good for something. When life saddles you with double D's, you've gotta get some practical use outta them without turning into a hussy. Besides, I will break out the 'boss, you have teeny boobs' card if I have to."

"Are we seriously arguing about boobs? You'd think we were dudes, or something. And my boobs are NOT teeny."

"Yeah, they kinda are. You're just jealous of my tracks of land."

"Oh no you did_ not_ just quote Monty Python to me."

"Oh, I _so_ did."

Jane threw up her hands. "Gah!"

Darcy chuckled. "You're grinning, don't fight it. Besides, when we get your Thunder Hunk back down to Earth we can make him watch Monty Python and all sorts of fun stuff."

Jane's grin widened. "This will be awesome."

"You bet, boss lady."

The two girls reached the barrier. The steel walls ringing the compound were not so high that they couldn't shimmy up them, but the cameras mounted in regular intervals did cause them a moment's concern. They slunk along the wall, hugging the uncomfortably warm metal that was just getting around to baking in the clear Arizona morning. Jane winced when she got too close to the pocked surface and it left her with a small burn on her elbow. Well, there was no help for it. If they left the shelter of the barricade, then the cameras would spot them immediately and Agent Coulson and a legion of his cronies would be out in a jiffy to haul them back.

Jane and Darcy crouched next to the gap in the wall. The opening was quite large and it was to let vehicles through, but it was also guarded by Agent Cheavers. While overall Jane approved of S.H.E.I.L.D and the Avengers and their agenda, Agent Cheavers was someone she could do without.

He gave Jane the creeps, with his clammy skin and wide popping eyes. He stared far too long when they had to speak to one another, and she always found herself wanting to scrub down with bleach and a wire brush after a few minutes in the man's presence. He gave her, in essence, the heebie jeebies of epic proportions.

Agent Cleavers was watching the camera monitors, unblinking, his wide toad eyes never deviated from the screens. Jane chewed her lip, wondering how the hell she was going to get him to look away long enough for them to sneak over the wall.

They sat there a moment, both thinking furiously. Then Darcy let out a quiet shriek and clutched at Jane's arm, muttering something about her taser.

Jane looked around at her foot and very nearly shrieked herself when she saw the tarantula, which was about the size of her hand, casually sauntering by. The quiet scientific voice at the back of her mind was classifying the arachnid as a Grand Canyon Black, but the main part of her brain was busy fumbling around with the words '_oh god_' and '_ew big hairy spider_.'

Jane carefully stuck her converse clad toe out in front of the spider, ignoring Darcy's quiet chorus of "ew's". The big spider walked right over her shoe, considering it nothing more than an inconvenient road block. Jane uttered a silent apology to the creepy crawly slowly meandering up her foot, and when it was situated on the tip of her shoe she kicked out with her leg.

The spider went sailing straight at Agent Cheavers, landing right in the man's lap.

If the spider could talk, Jane was sure it would be swearing at the top of its little spider lungs.

Just like Agent Cheavers was the moment he realized he had a giant hairy pissed off tarantula perched right on top of his nether bits. Jane and Darcy both choked, trying not to laugh as the man in the guard shack jumped up with a shriek and began flailing about like a kid in a pool with foam noodles attached to his arms.

Jane took a running jump, scrambling up the wall, hooking her fingers on the edge and painfully pulled herself up the hot metal side. She lay on her stomach and reached both hands down to Darcy. Darcy shimmied up, dark chestnut curls bouncing energetically as she worked her way up the side of the wall. Once up, they both rolled over the top and fell with solid plops down to the desert floor below.

Jane snickered as she flicked dirt off of her palms. She could still hear Agent Cheavers shrieking and banging into his observation equipment like a deranged monkey.

Darcy rose to her feet, brushing her butt off. "We'd better kick rocks before someone comes to see what all the fuss is."

Jane whole heartedly agreed. Agent Cheavers would not be pleased once he'd figured out that he'd been duped, especially if the spider took a vengeful chomp out of his man stuff. It was in their best interest to take advantage of his... predicament and make a speedy getaway. She allowed Darcy to haul her to her feet and they set off. The town of Puente Antiguo was only a few miles away, and the hospital was smack at the edge of town. Jane and Darcy both settled into a leisurely jog, enjoying the run before the sun rose too high and the desert became too hot to bear in the skimpy athletic wear they were both sporting.

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The hospital staff knew exactly who they were, and that was why they were able to just waltz right in, Jane figured. Agent Coulson and Director Fury had practically terrorized the staff while Jane and Pepper and Stark were hospitalized, and they were probably still slightly afraid of any potential repercussions.

It spoke measures for Nick Fury's tenacity and that of his staff; they were clearly forces to be reckoned with. Or at least the small town hospital employees certainly thought so.

Whatever the reason, Jane and Darcy were not challenged as they trundled through the recovery ward of the hospital, looking for Erik's room. It didn't take them long: the small town hospital fit the small town of Puente Antiguo in its simplistic design. It was merely a matter of trial and error. After barging into four different wrong rooms respectively, they eventually found the right one. Jane opened the door and peeked in, her face brightening when she saw Erik Selvig sitting in his hospital bed, straight jacket nowhere in sight. She opened the door wider, then swore when she saw the agent sitting in a fold up chair at the foot of his bed reading.

Agent Sampson Delancey saw who the rooms intruders were and his brow furrowed. He carefully set _Crime and Punishment_ aside and rolled his huge shoulders. "You ladies are not supposed to be here."

Erik frowned, looking from Jane to his guard, but said nothing.

Darcy peered from around Jane and her eyes settled on Delancey's imposing figure. "Wow, you're big. Hey Jane, isn't that the dude you told me about? The one who god his ass kicked by Thor when he was going for his hammer thingy?"

Jane blushed and Delancey's dark cheeks darkened further. "You are not supposed to be here," he repeated.

Jane stared at him for a moment, then got a really, really stupid idea. It was such a bad idea, but it wouldn't go away. It would give Darcy a chance to talk to Erik, and get any information as to Loki's intentions if she could.

Jane dropped and swept her foot around behind Delancey's ankles, trying to trip him up. He was too solid and she was too inexperienced so he did not fall, but he still stumbled back a few paces. Jane moved forward, landing light hits to his solar plexus and thighs.

"Ms. Foster, what are you- _ooph!_"

Jane spun, and when he was off balance, she hooked her foot around his ankle again and he went crashing like a tree felled in a forest. He certainly shook the fixtures in the room with his fall, and the ceiling lamp tinkled ominously.

"Ms. Foster!" he bellowed, hauling himself back to his feet.

Jane laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. She darted from the room when he made to follow her.

"Ms. Foster! You are a grown woman! Act your age! This is not- GET BACK HERE!" he roared.

He charged after her like an enraged rampaging rhinoceros going after a lioness that had overstepped its bounds on the Serengeti. Darcy settled into the abandoned chair, glancing briefly at the book Delancey had been reading, before setting it aside. She and Erik both listened to the sound of Jane's mad dash through the halls with Delancey chasing after her. Darcy shook her head, wondering what on earth had gotten into her once quiet and reserved boss.

She was learning how to be a ninja with mad skills, escaping from top secret facilities by way of spider flinging, and now she was picking fights with Avengers agents. Darcy shuddered to think of what she'd think of next.

"So," she said, turning to Erik, "How're you feeling?"

He smiled briefly, a little sad. "Well enough, all things considered. We won't have long to talk. Sampson will be back with Jane soon."

Darcy scuffed her sneaker on the worn linoleum. "I know. So..what was it like? Having, ya know, _him_ in your head."

A shadow passed over Erik Selvig's face, and he suddenly looked more old and tired than Darcy had ever seen him. "It was the most- words can't describe it. I was seeing, but like in a dream. I almost_ killed _Jane. He would have made me kill Jane."

Erik's face crumpled and he hunched in on himself in his grief.

Darcy rose from her perch on the chair and went over to the small kitchenette and set about brewing a hot pot of tea. Being around Jane for the past few years she'd developed her boss's near constant craving for coffee, but Darcy's family had always been of the mindset that tea healed all ills. Why Erik had a full tea set in his room she could only guess, but she appreciated the fine china and the rich wooden tray it was sitting on. She found scones sitting in the little refridgerator and added them to plates. After checking to be sure that the cream and sugar pots were acceptably full, she carted the whole thing over to him, setting the tray in front of him and sitting on the edge of his bed.

They both sipped their tea in silence, after Erik's murmured "Thank you."

"What does he want?" Darcy asked finally.

"He wants us all to die," Erik said quietly, "But he harbors special hatred for Jane. She is the symbol of everything that was taken from him. She took his brother, and started the events that lead to his downfall."

Darcy felt a chill run down her spine. Her boss wasn't out of the woods yet, it seemed.

"Tell Jane," Erik whispered, "Tell her I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

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Thor fell into bed, feeling like he had a hoard of Valkyries clamoring in his head, full armor and weapons clattering together to form a giant Jotun sized headache.

The pallet he'd made up in a spare servant's quarters was not uncomfortable, but the little bed was not made for someone of his size. Thor curled up on it and sighed.

The other option was going back to Sif and their betrothal chambers. He knew he was shaming her by conspicuously not sharing her bed, but that was the one thing he could not make himself do. He would do the dance in public, play the reluctantly enamored groom to be. He would play this farce for them, and for the good of Asgard, but he had to draw the line somewhere. He felt nothing for Sif, and he wouldn't dishonor her by taking her when he had absolutely no intention of ever actually marrying her.

Thor coughed. His lungs felt dry and scratchy, and that bitter taste reminiscent of the crystals remained in his mouth. It wouldn't go away. This would be the first night he'd actually sought sleep since using them, and he had no idea what would happen. The Norns said they were good for three uses only. He coughed again, trying to breath. His body felt like it was being eaten by the inside out.

He gasped, his eyes rolled back into his head, and everything went dark.

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It was starting to become easy to recognize her dreams.

Jane was sitting on a beach, watching turquoise blue waves lap lazily at porcelain white sand. Salt and brine was heavy on her nose, combine with the scent of sunlight and tropical plants. Birds called to each other, little sand pipers darted in and out of the charging and retreating foam, searching for what, Jane could only guess. She rolled her head back, enjoying the way her deep red bikini allowed the sun to bake her skin to a warm gold.

"Jane?"

She jumped, then tilted her head back farther. Thor was standing right behind her, wearing blue swim trunks with little gold and grey lightning and thunderclouds all over them. Jane put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle. He looked adorably confused, and so incredibly cute.

"Where am I?" he asked, looking out over the beach and the waves.

Jane gently took his hand and tugged him down to sit next to her. "I think I'm dreaming again."

"I think I might be, too," Thor whispered, "I had not thought that I would be able to look upon you again."

Jane looked at him, really looked at him, and her mind finally registered the gauntness of his cheeks and the hollow expression in his eyes. Her Thunder God, her dear Thunder God looked like he was about to drop dead. Her heart ached for him and she pressed a trembling kiss to his furrowed brow.

"Oh baby," she murmured, holding out her arms, "I'm so sorry. May I?"

He looked up at her and nodded, and she crawled into his lap, suddenly cold even though the warm sun was baking them both. She wound her fingers into his thick golden hair, resting her chin on top of his head. Thor's arms curled about her tightly, and her heart broke when she realized he was shaking with dry sobs. Jane said nothing, there was nothing she could possibly say to alleviate his pain. She merely stroked his hair and back, and let him hold her tight.

His grip finally loosened and he looked at her a little sheepishly. "I am sorry, Jane. I lost myself."

Jane knelt between his knees and cupped his face. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all. Can you- can you tell me what's wrong? I might not understand, but I can listen."

Thor smiled tiredly and tugged her into his arms. She languished against him while he spilled out everything: Sif, the crystals, not sleeping, the throne, his father, the whole messy business.

Jane reached over, finding a small minibar had appeared next to her elbow while he was talking. She grinned. She loved her dreams. She pressed a kiss to his knee while she flopped over him awkwardly and began mixing them two mudslides. Jane preferred shaved ice as to ice cream, and the little mini bar obliged with a tiny trough of ice. She dumped extra Baileys and chocolate syrup into hers, while she was quite liberal with the vodka with his, feeling that he'd prefer vodka to chocolate. The tall iced glasses were in the shape of Asgard drinking horns, their frosty ends curling around to form a delicate curly q at the end.

Jane rested against him and his arm not holding a cold drink curled around her and held her close. Her eyes slid shut, and she enjoyed the sound of his heart beating just under her ear and the scent of his sun warmed skin of his chest against her nose.

Jane stabbed a spoon into her drink. "I want you to know, Thor, that I care for you." She swallowed, unable to get the words out that she wanted to say.

He looked at her, not understanding.

She pushed on. "I am willing to wait. However long you need. Your promise...I don't want you to suffer. If you can't get back through means that won't cause you pain, then don't come back," she took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't reject her for what would come next, "It breaks my heart to see you hurt. I can't do it, I just can't. I want you to be happy. And, you must realize that I'm not going to age as you do. My life span is a great deal shorter. I can't tether you to me, not like that. I can't ask that of you, it would be cruel. I want you to be happy. If that's with Sif, then let her take care of you."

Thor's face could have been made of stone. He said nothing, merely watched her with eyes like chips of blue ice in his unforgiving face.

Jane floundered at the look on his face, but she couldn't stop now. He had to know her feelings.

"What I'm saying is..I love you. I'm _in love_ with you Thor. I love you so much it hurts. I don't want you to be hurting- because of a stupid promise you made me."

Jane wasn't able to look him in the eye, for fear of seeing the rejection in his eyes. She knew that they had chemistry, and sure they'd rolled around together a bit in her dreams, but they'd never really spoken of their relationship. He'd never once said he loved her. Her heart was in her throat and her eyes squeezed closed. Oh god, oh god, he wasn't saying anything. Wake up, wake up, wake up-

"Jane."

Her eyes snapped open. His face was so deliciously close and the look in his eyes made her knees turn to jelly.

"Jane. _Minn ast. Minn hjarta," _he whispered reverently, cupping her cheeks like she were made of glass, "I have waited so long to hear those words from you."

Her eyes closed and her breath left her in a rush as he abruptly stood and spun her around, laughing. His joy was infectious and she found herself laughing along with him as she wound her legs about his hips.

"I was happiest when I thought I would live the rest of my days with you," Thor whispered, "And it wasn't a stupid promise. I meant every word. And I still intend to fulfill that promise."

Jane stroked her thumbs along his stubble rough cheeks, laughing still, and was utterly surprised to find her eyes wet with tears. She swiped at them furiously, and Thor pressed scruffy kisses to her palms.

Jane then dropped to the warm sand, wanting nothing more in that moment than to feel his body on hers. He followed her down, bracing his weight on his elbows to keep from squashing her. Jane slid against the firm length of him, relishing the feel of him against her. He really was made with power in mind, every inch of him was hard packed muscle sheathed in soft golden skin.

"I do not think I have long here," he whispered, seeing the heavy lidded look she was sending his way, "And I will not dishonor you, not while we are not bound formally."

Jane ignored all of this. "Kiss me," she whispered, "Please."

Thor dimpled at the sight of her practically writhing underneath him. Jane Foster was the most brilliant and beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and here she was in his arms practically naked in her skimpy little suit, almost begging for him. He was unable to help himself, and he bent and pressed his mouth to hers.

He could taste the alcohol and chocolate in her kiss, and before he gave himself over, his mind whispered that this was Valhalla, he needed nothing more.

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_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 15 Tricksters and Death Swords

**Author's Note:** _I saw Captain America when it came the other night, and lemme tell you I think it's honestly right up there with Thor; one of the best Avengers movies to date. I encourage anyone who hasn't seen it yet to go, and make sure you stay after the credits! The new Avengers trailer is awesome! Can't wait til FF makes a slot for the film!_

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 15:** Tricksters and Killer Death Swords

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Loki was, to put it quite simply, pissed.

Not only was he sitting in a bar like a loser at an ungodly hour of the morning, but the waitstaff was sorely lacking. His fresh faced scatterbrained waiter had misplaced his order twice, and when his ale finally did arrive it wasn't ale at all but some yeasty local beer that tasted like it had been made from cow manure and teenage angst. Loki gritted his teeth. He was sorely tempted to forcefully remind those vacant expression humans that just because they stamped the word 'Ale' or 'Mead' across something in their chicken scratch language, it didn't make it proper alcohol.

He shoved his beer around the table mulishly. He hadn't paid for the thing, of course, Loki never paid for anything, but it was in ingrained in his nature as a (here he grimaced, how ironic) Norsemen: never _ever _let any sort of booze go to waste. It was a high crime of the worst caliber to throw out _alcohol_.

He tossed back the tankard of brown fizzy liquid that was most certainly _not_ ale, and gasped as it burned its way down his throat. Blech. He slammed the tankard back down and glared into its empty interior, the emptiness only serving to remind him that here he was sitting in a Terran bar, banished with all his careful plans lying in the metaphorical chamber pot. Several of the morning patrons frequenting the bar turned around and glared at him for disturbing the peace with his tankard banging and grumbling and mumbling.

Loki paid them no mind.

Asgard was lost to him, that much was clear. He would never achieve the standing as Odin's favored son, he realized this now. Thor had ruined everything.

Loki would have had a chance to finally be the revered one, the loved one, the _best_ one. That was all gone and lost now with Thor's return to Asgard and the waking of Odin from the _odinsleep. _Loki slumped further into his sulk. It had been the collective looks of horror and betrayal on his adoptive mother's and father's faces that had caused him to give up, to simply let go. It hadn't been betrayal, Loki wanted to scream. He'd been saving them all.

Saving them from both the Jotun threat and his boneheaded brother.

He snarled into his empty mug. Well he'd show them; they'd acknowledge him one way or another, if it was the last thing that he ever did.

A slow smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. With one finger he traced the image of a cube onto the table, a line of burning ash following his finger so that the image was ingrained into the wood. The rendition of the cube glowed a dim red. The fabled Cosmic Cube, created by the ancient race of beings called the Skrulls and once the most valuable item in his father's vault, was here on Earth. Right within his grasp. The humans called it the Tesseract, and had rightfully assumed it to be an unending well of absolute power.

Loki stood suddenly, causing the other customers in the bar to jump and look round at the creepy shaggy dark haired man with the weird glowing eyes nervously. Loki grinned at them and they all paled at the expression on his face before hurriedly going back to their breakfasts. He smirked. They had a right to be afraid, little insects that they were.

Loki sauntered out of the bar, enjoying the morning sunshine and the new promise of the day. He'd had fun with little Jane Foster, and Erik Selvig had proven some use to him after all. The best part was, they thought the danger was all over and that they were safe now. Hah! If only they knew the extent of what they were in for. There was a Cube to collect and mischief to be done.

The musical sound of crashing chairs and high pitched shrieks played him out the door as all the patrons suddenly found that big fat squirming grubs were now wiggling their way through their food.

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Jane rolled out of bed, feeling more refreshed than she could remember being in a long, long time. Her dream had gone on forever, she and Thor had kissed and talked and kissed and talked til she couldn't remember were she ended and he began. It was a giant squee worthy moment of the greatest magnitude her brain could come up with, and she spent several minutes dancing around her little trailer in her underwear and tee shirt shrieking quietly to herself in victory. Thor loved her,_ loved her_.

'_Sif, you can suck on that_,' Jane thought, triumphantly fist punching the air.

It was extremely childish, she knew, but she couldn't help it. The little inside part of her that would always be the self-conscious girl the huge glasses at the back of the class, the nerdy one who was always a little smarter than everyone else but totally dumb when it came to people, was cheering that somehow the drop dead gorgeous boy had decided he liked her.

Jane Foster was not the sort of girl who needed a boy to complete her and make her life mean something, but she wasn't complaining either. Thor was hot, and sweet, and sensitive, and hot, and smart and did she mention hot?

Jane puttered around her tiny kitchen, scrounging up breakfast and fixing coffee.

She could hear Agent Coulson bellowing at some of his cronies, something about tightening security so that two measly scientists couldn't just waltz past whenever they wanted. Jane snorted. Agent Cheavers would be on desk duty for a long, long time, and she wasn't upset at all to find she didn't care a jot. She was a tad sore about her own predicament though. Watching the steel walls of the compound right out her little trailer window irked her.

Director Fury had overreacted to say the least, concerning her and Darcy's little jaunt to go see Erik.

The two girls had got the worst chewing out Jane had ever received, but she could help but giggle at the thought that if Fury ever had kids he'd be all in practice for when he had to read them the riot act. The man could lecture like a pro. If he'd stopped at the spiel than she'd have completely understood, but seriously?

Airlifting her trailer from the trailer park just outside of Puente Antiguo to dump it right smack in the middle of the compound was a bit much.

Jane sighed. Oh well. It could have been worse. He might've simply blown up her trailer and made her move into the Avengers' barracks. She shuddered. That close to Agent Cheavers, she might go mad and test out her new kung fu skills on his creepy ass.

Jane finished frying her egg, still thoughtfully watching Coulson terrorize his new recruits. She enjoyed the sight of several men almost in tears while she layered cheese onto her egg, but the crowning jewel of the whole thing came when Cheavers was forced to do an indeterminate number of pushups to 'heighten his situational awareness'. How pushups could heighten anyone's awareness, other than their awareness to extreme arm pain she had no idea.

It was still funny though.

Jane took a huge bite of flaky delicious croissant smothered in butter, egg, and cheese, and headed back over to her bed. She felt a twinge of guilt sitting on her bed with any kind of food; if her mother had been alive she would have smacked her for daring to bring a potential mouse magnet into a sleeping area. Jane took a bite out her croissant, mentally squashing her mom's voice; she was twenty six, she could eat in bed if she wanted to.

Jane leaned against the wall, propped up on a pillow. She stared down the unobtrusive chalkboard hulking in the corner. The dusty green face of the board, scribbled all over with the plans and figures that would either be her future or her downfall, gave the impression of gnarled Old Man Time. He seemed to be frowning at her, weighted down by her hopes and dreams, counting down the time when Loki would come down on the Avengers with all that he could muster and they would hall have to pay the ferry man.

She sighed and tapped her head against the wall. She was over thinking this. This little project of hers would probably never get off of the ground, but it did help her feel better about the fact that Loki was indeed still out there and causing trouble. The existence of the project made her feel like she was solving the problem, like she was safer.

She knew it was a silly idea, but it still helped.

Munching on her croissant she leaned forward. Thin swipes of chalk outlined with mathematical figures wove together to form a blade about three and a half feet long. The shape was curved, elegant, and the little corner of Jane's mind that would always retain a love for the romantic had crafted it to resemble a typical Norse sword called a Spatha. The blade was long, thin, and leaf shaped. The pommel of the sword curved around to form a heavy T shape, and the hand guard curved around backwards, completing the image of the ancient Viking rendition of Thor's Hammer.

Jane sighed. It was far from completion. The blade was her hobby, really. She'd started drawing up plans for it right after the big Avengers Meeting concerning Loki's involvement with the ESRF Project and Erik's posession. The blade was designed to carry a tiny Arc Reactor situated right between the beginning of the blade and the end of the guard.

The reactor in turn would fuel a miniature rip in space around the blade, theoretically allowing the sword to obliterate whatever it struck while protecting the wielder. The only problem was, besides that the experiment was most likely not going to work, was that there was no alloy she knew of on Earth that would theoretically support the stress of the repeated wormholes. The ESRF Project had proven that by exploding with a bang.

Jane mashed the last of her croissant into her mouth.

Oh well. It was just a dream.

She heaved herself out of bed and threw on her clothes before darting out her trailer door. If she was late for work, especially after what she and Darcy had pulled the other day, Director Fury would probably pull her legs off and make her eat them.

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_To be continued..._


	16. Chapter 16 Discoveries and Mad Scientist

**Author's Note:** _I need to take a tally, opinions from all of the people who are following this. I am thinking about switching the rating to M, for 'ahem' situational reasons i.e. when Thor gets back to Earth, and I'm wondering if it'll upset people? What do you guys think? Leave it the way it is, all rather tame? Or I switch it to M, and ramp up my Jane/Thor aspect and let my dirty humor and language shine through. Let me know either way please, Thanks!_

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you!_

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 16:** Discoveries and Mad Scientists

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Loki strolled through the Avengers vaults with nary a care in the world. His shiny black knee high corsair boots made loud clicking noises in the quiet hallways. The huge labyrinthine echoing rooms where they hid all of their dangerous contraband and miscellaneous crap that needed to be away from public eyes was an endless maze that one could easily become lost in. Lucky for him, he wasn't an average schmuck. Loki tipped the outrageous top hat he had perched on top of his head at a black khaki clad guard in full riot gear.

The guard's eyes behind his dark goggles narrowed at the flamboyantly dressed intruder, then looked confused as his body jumped to attention like a marionette, entirely against his will.

The guard saluted Loki smartly, and the Trickster enjoyed listening to the man snarl helplessly as he fought against his invisible bonds.

Loki chuckled. This was entirely too much fun; the humans really had no defense against his superior power.

Maybe they'd attain the level of the Asgard in a few millennia, but for now they were just pathetically silly. He made the man drop a perfect curtsy, just for the fun of it, and he laughed again. Even if he was forever banned from Asgard, it wasn't like Earth was a total loss. This place was fun. There were insanely secure vaults to rob and the manly dreams of rent-a-guards to squash.

But, Loki realized, sighing as he watched his unfortunate victim do the tango with an invisible partner, he came here for a purpose and it really was time to get down to business. No matter how much fun he was having, there was real mischief that needed doing. Loki flicked his fingers and the guard's head cracked to one side and his hips snapped to the other. He crumpled like an old towel to the floor and Loki strode over him, sharp pointy coat tails brushing the dead man's face.

The warehouse was enormous, easily spanning miles and miles underground with random tunnels and booby traps hindering his search. One could easily spend a few hundred lifetimes searching here and finding nothing of value but dust and splinters. Fortunately, Loki did not have to spend the rest of his days hunting. The power of the Cosmic Cube called to him, and his feet followed a straight line to it, raising little whorls of dust that settled onto the hems of his black slacks like little grey ghosts.

His gut tightened; the Cube was close.

Loki's patience was rewarded when a tantalizing blue glow visibly ensured him that he was indeed going in the right direction. The soft Prussian blue luminescence radiated from a dingy corner of one of the off shooting corridors, and it gradually grew stronger and brighter, until the walls of the corridor was bathed in cold light. Loki licked his lips, mouth dry. He was so _close_, so very painfully close.

Everything was coming along according to plan.

If this was indeed the fabled Cosmic Cube created by the Skrulls, than he would be virtually unstoppable.

Then again, the pretty light could be just another booby trap and the feeling in his gut could be the six pints of booze he'd had for breakfast.

One never knew.

Loki allowed a happy sigh to escape him when he finally saw with his own eyes the legendary Cosmic Cube. The Cube had gone missing from his Fath-, Odin's Vaults before he was even born, and he could hardly believe that here was the most powerful source of energy in the universe simply sitting there for his taking.

He sauntered around it, enjoying the way the Cube's power thrummed and rattled him right through to his very bones. It was truly glorious. Or, it would be if it didn't have all of those wires winding all over it.

Loki peered closer.

They weren't actually wires, more like thick synthetic vices weaving up and around it. He poked at them and grimaced. What had the humans _done_ to the damn thing?

Fleshy tubes filled with a sluggish dark blue liquid surrounded the Cube in a complex weave, forming a loose net that conformed to the Cube's shape.

Loki's lip curled in disgust. The mortals had absolutely no right to mar a beautiful piece of technology that they couldn't even understand in the first place. Imbeciles. He stretched out his hand, fully intending to rip the surrounding abomination off, and was surprised to find that he couldn't. The device surrounding it must have been connected to an unseen power source, and it let out a shock that rattled his teeth. His eyebrows drew together, and for a moment he was amused.

That amusement faded quickly when his continued attempts to remove the weird tubing from around the Cube failed. The Cube remained wrapped in its disgusting pulsating blue mud net and all he got for his trouble was stinging electrocuted fingers. Loki growled, and flung a blast of his power at the device in irritation. He was even more irritated to see the Cube hum and absorb his power, completely unaffected by his little temper tantrum.

"Whore-sick goat consorters," Loki snarled, giving the metal pedestal the cube sat on a vicious kick.

He stared at the Cube for a long time. The bizarre net thing was protected by the positively Neanderthal shocking device, and the aura of the Cube itself negated anything his magic could do to it. Loki ground his teeth. So the monkey mortals occasionally came up with something rather smart. What a shocker.

Loki gingerly worked his fingers up under the Cube, making sure its stupid little zapper was intact, and heaved the entire thing up with a small grunt. He held it in his hand, feeling marginally better now that it was in his possession and off of the pedestal. It still looked horrendously ugly with all of the crap covering it, but at least it was in his hand where it belonged.

"You and I, my Darling," he crooned, "Are going to have a positively lovely time together."

It was quiet a moment, then-

"Oh god gross, please don't. It's my first day and Director Fury will make me clean up the mess."

Loki turned, annoyed with himself that he'd allowed himself to be distracted over his new toy and curious to see just exactly who would be bold enough to address one of the most notorious villains in the Universe so cavalierly. His eyes found a rather unobtrusive minion in the same black combat gear as the schmuck from the entrance that had been so fond of the tango.

The Trickster was almost disappointed to see the random Joe Blow rent-a-mercenary that had had the misfortune to chance upon him. It would have been far more fun to have someone of importance. Loki would have loved to have had the chance to scramble the brains of Iron Man, or maybe even their precious Director Fury. Hee. But then again, he thought sadly, Fury didn't deign to guard the mundane, and he wouldn't let any of his precious pets do it either. Loki could hardly imagine Iron Man or the lovely Natasha on mere guard duty.

Loki sighed, pocketing the Cube. The rent-a-merc was still bellowing at him like an angry cow, and Loki grinned at him toothily. Beggars couldn't be choosers after all. He hadn't made someone look silly in a full two hours, and he'd take his entertainment where he could find it.

With one step he was right in the unfortunate man's face, green eyes boring into him like a drill bit into rotten wood. The soldier choked, trying to reel back, and failing to tear his gaze away. It was a futile gesture, Loki knew; no one had ever been able to break his hypnotism once he got a hold of them.

It was still cute to watch them try though, what with all the choking and drooling that went on while it happened.

"If you let me go, I won't drop a piano on your dear wife Anna's head that has ACME printed on the side, while she's buying baby food for your toddler Joey," Loki whispered, allowing his voice to acquire a creepy echo, then added on an after thought, "Though she won't get up again like the Wiley Coyote, will she? She will be an Anna Pancake, right at the corner of 36th and Brighton."

It was all about the little details after all and the guard's face was paling spectacularly.

"How did you-," the unfortunate man whispered, all pretenses at bravado entirely gone, "You're lying."

Loki drew himself up, and said in his best stuffy Thor imitation, "I am an honored warrior, my word is my honor and I never lie."

Loki wanted to giggle. This was all too much. On top of the hypnotism, the guard was probably an ex soldier of one Earth military faction or another, and if he was anything like the typical Asgard warrior, than he'd eat up that warrior's honor bullshit. A moment passed, and the muzzle of the guard's assault rifle wavered uncertainly. The Trickster was pleased to see that in the next ten seconds the guard proved him entirely correct.

With a strangled cry the guard clenched his hands around his assault rifle, clearly having an inner struggle of a glorious magnitude.

_'Five, four, three, two-_' Loki thought.

The guard finally let out a shout, then tossed the rifle which Loki figured to be a pricy bit of human weapon technology to the ground and fled, most likely to assure himself as to the safety of his family.

"Except when I'm lying about lying," Loki murmured thoughtfully to the empty room, "Then I _am_ lying."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

"Ugh, you stupid over pretentious piece of crap! If you haven't loaded in the next two seconds I'm going to turn you into scrap and jump on you!" Jane Foster shrieked, shaking a fist at the computer that was trying to process the algorithms she'd come up with, and was currently crashing over them.

_-System Failure-_

"Gah!"

Jane dropped her head onto the desk with a bang, raised her head, then dropped it again. "Stupid." Bang. "Piece." Bang. "Of." Bang. "GARBAGE!"

The damn computer had crashed for the fourth time that day, eating all of the work she'd slaved over. Why her? Why? The universe must have a thing against giving her a break, because between Nick Fury and all of the technical outdated crap she had to work with, she was seriously about to go mad.

"You know, a healthy bit of advice," said an amused voice behind her, "Delicate ladies' foreheads like yours don't look as attractive with bruises the size of a baby's fist on them. Just saying, not that I'm telling you how to be a girl or anything."

Jane peeled her face off of the desk, ignoring the checkerboard pattern the keyboard had left on her forehead, and turned to glare at Tony Stark. "Your_ computer_ JUST ATE THREE WEEKS OF WORK!"

Tony glanced over her shoulder and saw the error message. "Oops."

"Oops?" Jane said, _"Oops_?"

Tony paled at the expression on her face, the one that bore an uncanny resemblance to an angry badger about to murder a family of rattlesnakes. "Um, not oops?"

Jane's left eyebrow twitched and Stark could hear her teeth grinding.

"Tony Stark," Jane said calmly, reaching for a stray coffee mug, "Unfortunately I have to beat you to death, to relieve stress from services hampered by your technology. I hope you understand."

"With a coffee mug?" he asked laughing, then shrieked when aforementioned coffee mug went sailing past his nose, "Hey crazy lady, watch it!"

Jane growled in frustration, and searched for something else to throw.

Stark danced behind Jane's desk and stuck his tongue out at her. "Bleh! You throw like a girl!"

This did not help Jane's frustration, and Tony Stark had to dodge every single office appliance that Jane was able to grab and lob over the desk at him. He giggled as a stapler flew over his head.

"Neener neener, wee little Nerdling."

"Oh it is on now, old man! You will be sorry!"

"Old man! I'm only a few years older than you, woman!"

"Yep, and it really shows."

Stark grabbed a sheaf of paper and flung them at her, and Jane dodged, laughing.

"_...Please Sir, act your age._"

Stark dropped the box of rubber bands he'd been in the process of shooting at Jane and straightened. "You, Jarvis, are what they call a wet blanket."

Jane picked paper clips out of her hair and turned.

-And almost jumped out of her skin when she found herself face to face with a shiny metal man that had Jarvis's voice.

"EEK!"

_"Really Ms. Foster_," the thing, rather Jarvis, said, "_It doesn't look that horrid does it_?"

Jane reached out and gently poked Jarvis's new metal chassis in blatant curiosity. "No, wow, you actually look fantastic. You just surprised me, that's all."

Jarvis offered her a short bow with his new chrome body. _"I am ecstatic at your approval, Miss."_

After waiting a moment to see if it was safe to emerge from behind the desk, Stark came around to lean on the desk's edge. "He's unfinished, though I started Jarvis's program download to see if it worked."

Jane stared incredulously at Jarvis. "You let him mess with you when you could potentially go _poof_?"

Jarvis sniffed in a very human gesture. _"My files are backed up, Ms. Foster, I'd never let him scramble my program otherwise."_

"I fail to see how you could do anything about it if I did," Stark said chuckling.

Jarvis straightened his boss's crooked tie with a sharp jerk. "_I have my ways, Sir_."

Stark shivered, "Okay that was creepy, just got the shivers."

Jane snorted.

"Well, believe it or not we had a purpose for coming down here and bothering you," Stark said, throwing an arm over Jarvis's metal shoulder.

"Yeah?" Jane said, "Was it to fix your crap computer and retrieve all of my data?"

"No," Stark told her cheerfully, and waved a bright pink envelope in her face, "I have been ordered by Pepper and Darcy to cordially envite you to your birthday party."

Jane blinked. "It's my birthday?"

She crawled under the desk for office supplies that had not yet suffered the Jane/Stark tornado. She upended a cardboard box and rooted around for a calender, flipped it open and muttered in surprise. "Huh, why so it is. Imagine that."

Stark laughed at her. "You've been down here too long sweet cheeks. Come on, have birthday fun and get drunk and make bad decisions with us. "

Jane smiled, already feeling the tension of work leaving her at the thought of free birthday booze, then she stopped and looked back at the mess they'd made.

"Think we should clean this up?"

"Nah, we'll leave it for Fury to find. It's good for his blood pressure."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	17. Chapter 17 Presents and Candles

**Author's Note:** _Okay, a few things before we begin: The Peter Parker envision is the Tobey Maguire version. I'm not a fan of the new Spider Man, the dude has hair like a chia pet and he's too noodly. I also realize that the little spin I'm putting on the Thing with Thor's cloak is a little silly as you will soon see, but you have to realize that I am a girl and I come from the hardcore school of River Tam, Alice Abernathy, Lacey Mosley(Sturm): that all a girl needs to look awesome and defeat evil is a cute dress and a sturdy pair of boots. I also realize that while this idea isn't new and it may feel a tad worn to some of you, I just can't help it._

_Btw the dress I chose for Jane's look can be found if you go to the site ModCloth. It's called the I Ingenue It! Dress. Just imagine that it's Thor Cloak red. I'll admit that the description that goes with the dress is a little cheesy, but eh, it's the look that counts. Oh, and if you type the name of the dress into google image, that also works. Mmmm, ModCloth, how do I love thee? Since I've started revealing that I nerd out over clothes, I might as well tell you that the boots are also from the same site. _

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 17:** Presents and Candles

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Stark took all four of them out in his Bugatti Veyron. Jane was jealous of how easy it was for Stark to sneak out of the base. All it seemed to take was a roguish smile and a bit of bluster. The guard hadn't even batted an eye when Stark had rolled up to the security gate; merely lazily waved his hand and herded them on through.

Stark, Jane, Darcy, Pepper, and Natasha squashed into the vehicle like clowns into a clown car. Only in this case the clown car was worth more than Jane could ever hope to make in several lifetimes, and it was bruising her worse than Loki or the Destroyer had managed to date. She winced. The gear casing was digging a dent into her butt and Natasha's elbow was smooshed against her spine.

None of them had room to move as the expensive car was really only designed to seat two: the rich dude that bought it and the scantily clad bimbo accompanying him.

Still, Jane had to admit that it was the nicest ride she'd ever been in. The 16 cylinder engine purred like quiet thunder and the car sailed through the streets of Las Vegas like it owned the place. She felt she had a view of an urban jungle through the eye of a black and red tiger with glowing white eyes. Stark certainly made it roar like one. He blew through every stoplight, and the lights they did get caught at usually had some punk in a corvette or an escalade that he would challenge to a street race.

The Bugatti would lurch forward, leaving the poor challenger in the dust in a few seconds before Stark sent it tearing off down the street searching for his next unassuming victim.

Stark spent the rest of his time not racing arguing with Jarvis over directions. The butler had chosen to leave his shiny new body back at the base, but his clipped sarcastic British accent still echoed through the Bugatti's speakers as he tried to convince his boss that it wasn't a good idea to drive the wrong way down a one way street.

The four women took turns craning their heads out of the sleek windows to watch the glittering Vegas night slide by.

Since Jane was birthday girl, she got the most time with her head out the window.

She found that her mouth kept hanging open with shock, and the urge to point at things was overwhelming. Jane had been to big cities, certainly, for research conventions and projects, but that was only in the day time. She preferred to spend her off nights with nothing but a telescope and her computer and the night sky, cataloging stars. The closest she'd ever come to Vegas were grainy CSI reruns on Darcy's TiVo. Cities were an alien thing to her, and the streets of Las Vegas at night was not something she'd ever dreamed of.

It looked like someone had taken Tinkerbell and her fairy friends and fed them through an LED juicer before spraying them all over the city.

Just when she thought her senses had overloaded from all the pretty neon lights, Stark pulled the car right smack up in front of the Hotel Bellagio and nearly squashed a smartly dressed valet.

"Stark!" Pepper promptly smacked him, "You're still getting over the publicity from the last time you hit someone. Pay attention."

"I'm a good driver!" Stark whined, and fluttered his eyelashes at her, "That ice cream truck was in my lane."

"This isn't Great Britain, Tony, we drive on the right over here."

Stark sniffed. "I maintain that he was in my lane."

"Oh Tony, sweetie," Pepper said smiling, and she leaned close and put her lips to his ear, "this is NOT THE REPUBLIC OF STARK. LEARN TO DRIVE."

Stark looked plaintively at Pepper, jiggling a finger in his ear. "Well, dear heart, I do believe my ear is bleeding."

Pepper imitated his sniff. "I maintain that I used a perfectly reasonable tone."

Darcy giggled and patted Pepper on the knee. "You guys are cute. So what happens now?"

"What happens now is I get out without breaking anything," Natasha muttered, worming her way over Jane and around Darcy, "I'm impersonating a pretzel and I can't feel my left foot.

Stark winced when Natasha got stuck and couldn't find the door handle, kicked the dashboard a couple times in her haste to get free and then chose to flop out the window of his two million dollar car like a dead fish.

One by one they piled out of the car, with the valet becoming increasingly more hassled looking with each person that spilled out.

The poor man reached for the keys, probably envisioning taking the Bugatti for a little joy ride before he parked it. Stark yanked the keys out of the valet's reach with a sharp jingle before he tucked them carefully into his suit pocket. The valet looked confused, and a little disapointed.

"You're not getting my ride," Stark told him.

"But it can't stay in front of the hotel!" the valet stammered.

"Yes, it can," Stark said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Look, tourists are taking pictures of it. It's an attraction. Thanks, I'm glad you're so understanding buddy."

"But-"

Jane and Darcy and Natasha all watched the valet struggle with identical expressions of sympathy. The man clearly had no idea who he was dealing with. Pepper just pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. Arguing with Tony Stark was like trying to tell five year old that it wasn't possible to grow up to be a My Little Pony: impossible and hopeless, and the arguer would always end up losing in the end.

"Glad we got that settled," Stark said grinning.

Pepper snorted, but slid her hand around his offered arm. "You're impossible, you know that right?"

Stark grinned wider. "It's one of my more endearing qualities."

Natasha fluffed her crimson curls and straightened nonexistent wrinkles on her professional pinstriped pantsuit. "You know, it really is surprising that Fury doesn't get any more therapy bills and lawsuits than he does."

Stark rolled his eyes, tapped something on his watch, and the Bugatti beeped. "Alright let's go. Jarvis, zap anyone who touches my car."

"_…Very good sir._"

Natasha stared at the Bugatti still sitting unobtrusively right smack in front of one of Las Vegas' more well known hotels, then glanced slowly over at Pepper. "Dare I ask?"

"He rigged it to shock anyone that touches it with intent to steal," Pepper said apologetically.

"Does it work?" Darcy asked.

Stark actually giggled. "Of course. Lights em' up like a Christmas tree.

"Well let's get out of here before I have to do any public relations," Natasha said, "Seeing as it's my night off."

"Well said."

Stark steered all of them towards the Bellagio's main entrance, and they flocked through the tourists and the well dressed casino goers in a rather haphazardly confused way. They either got confused looks (from the tourists), sneers (from the well dressed), or frightened looks (from the staff, they had Tony Stark with them after all). Jane snorted and Pepper rolled her eyes when one of the managers fainted.

Jane looked at Stark. "I take it you've left your mark here as well?"

Stark looked up at the hotel lobby ceiling and whistled innocently.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

At the entrance to the Picasso Restaurant Jane stopped.

"Not to be an ungrateful snot, but isn't this a little much?" she asked hesitantly.

Stark waved a hand at her, "Nonsense, birthdays are supposed to be fun, and it gives me an excuse to drink and make an ass out of myself in public."

Pepper kissed his cheek fondly. "When have you ever needed an excuse?"

"...point taken."

Natasha approached the Maitre'd who had been eyeing them and their frumpy state of dress a little peevishly. The Picasso at the Bellagio was a five star restaurant of the highest calliber, and the people standing in front of the Maitre'd were dressed in varying degrees of almost hobodom.

Natasha's pantsuit was heavily wrinkled, and there was a brown blotch on her cuff link that was probably dried blood from one of her victims. Darcy was dressed head to toe in her mother's finest: purple knitted mini dress, black and yellow knitted stockings that slumped around her knees, and a lumpy knitted beret with a strawberry fixed to it was perched jauntily on her chestnut curls.

Jane was not in the habit of dressing up for her long stints in the lab, and as such she was wearing her favorite t-shirt: Alien and Predator drinking tea and playing chess. Her jeans had holes in them and her converse sneakers were scuffed.

Stark was wearing what might have been once a pretty snappy looking suit, but it hadn't been washed in several days and there were spaghetti stains on the collar. Pepper's black pencil skirt was impeccable, but her white blouse had been unbuttoned and now dipped daringly low, and strands of ginger hair were starting to sneak out in clumps from her elaborate chignon.

The Maitre'd's lip curled as his gaze slid from one badly dressed individual to the next. Jane and Darcy and Pepper looked properly ashamed of themselves, but Natasha was looking murderous. Clearly being cooped up in a car for the time it took to drive from Puente Antiguo all the way to Las Vegas, no matter how snazzy the ride was, had put a severe strain on her nerves.

Natasha fixed him with her best Black Widow stare. "We have reservations," she said, then glanced back at Stark, "Do we not?"

"Baby," he said, "I'm Tony Stark. I don't _need_ reservations."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Five minutes later, though Jane couldn't really say how it had happened (there had been some thinly veiled wheedling threats from Stark, and one of Natasha's well placed evil looks), and they were seated at a round linen covered table in the corner. Dim light winked at them subtly overhead from the dark wooden rafters of the place like tiny stars, and their table was lit with small paper lanterns that tossed gentle shadows into the corners of the plates and silverware. The people around them weren't paying much attention to them, and the quiet murmur of conversation and the click of silverware and the smooth classical music (Chopin, if she was to guess) rolled around her like a comfortable blanket.

Jane leaned back in the round backed padded chair. It made not a sound when she stretched as subtly as she could.

"Wow Stark," Darcy whispered, poking at the tropical flowers in a delicate glass vase on their table, "This is amazing."

Stark nodded and raised his hand, and a waiter had appeared at his elbow like magic. Stark muttered into his ear and the waiter was off again, leaving a bottle of champagne and several glasses in his wake.

"So," Stark said, raising a glass of the energetically bubbling alcohol, "To our birthday girl, and also to yet another fabulous escape from our esteemed Director Fury's base."

Natasha sighed, and instead of clinking her glass with Stark's she tossed the whole thing back with a sweep of her thick red curls. "We're going to be quietly murdered for this, you know."

"When I was little," Darcy said, "Birthdays were a 'get out of jail free' card."

"Yes," Jane nodded sagely, "I will tell Fury that I claim birthday girl. Flawless victory."

"I agree with Natasha," Pepper said after a moment, "We're going to die."

Stark waved a hand airily. "Bah. I'm too expensive to die."

"I'm not," Jane muttered.

"Oh don't worry," Darcy told her, "Thor would avenge your death. There would be explosions and lightning and it would all be very dramatic."

The birthday girl got a goofy look on her face. "Mmm, Thor."

It was quiet a moment, then Jane leaned forward and propped her elbows up on the table, "In all seriousness though, where are we with the whole Loki thing? I'm honestly surprised nothing has come up since the hospital incident. I mean, I know Darcy and I don't get out much because we're usually stuck in the lab, but do you guys know what's going on?"

"That's because nothing really _has_ come up," Natasha said. The Black Widow's face looked pinched and tired.

"It's a bunch of little things," Stark said, taking over when Natasha fell silent, "We've had wormhole residue pop up all over the state of New Mexico that's causing lightning storms, as well as answering fluctuations from deep space. It's all miner, and completely random. It's like he's trying to create the Bifrost, but he's doing it in a bunch of places on top of doing it wrong. We know it's probably for something dastardly but we can't figure out what it is. It literally makes no sense."

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it with a click when her waiter placed a round brown cake in front of her that was dusted lightly with white sugar with tiny maroon raspberries dotting the white china plate. The whole thing was sadly tiny, and Jane thought ruefully that the higher in price a meal came the smaller it always got.

She picked up her fork, not really wanting to mess up the work of art on her plate. "I've been reading the blogs. People are saying that the Skinwalker Killer appeared in time with the storms. Do the murders have anything to do with this, do you think?"

"But didn't the Skinwalker originate in New York? I thought that the storms were only happening in New Mexico," Darcy put in, spearing apricots and golden sorbet with her spoon.

Natasha raked a hand through her red curls. "We think it's just a coincidence. The Skinwalker has actually been around long before this thing with Loki even happened."

Pepper gave both Stark and Natasha the stink eye. "You knew a serial killer was loose and you didn't do anything about it?"

Natasha shrugged. "There were bigger calamities on our plates, believe it or not. Besides, New York is Spider Man's territory. We figured he'd handle it."

Jane stabbed her little chocolate cake and was pleased to see a rich chocolate fudge spill out. "He obviously hasn't handled it."

"...And now he's missing," Natasha muttered.

"As I said," Stark murmured, sipping at his champagne, "None of it makes any sense."

"Well, while the fate of the world is hugely important," Darcy said, reaching across the table and several different desserts for the champagne bottle, "There is a birthday to be celebrated. Birthdays are for shenanigans and cake, and if I'm not drunk and fat by the time the night is over than this will have been a birthday fail."

"Amen to that," Stark said, clinking his glass with her bottle.

Darcy fixed the birthday girl with an evil look. "Now it's time to sing."

Jane shot her a glare. "Don't you dare."

"I don't think this is an appropriate venue for it," Pepper said, "The wait staff almost died when they saw what we were wearing. I don't think they could handle singing."

Darcy slumped. "Fine. It's bad luck to not sing, though. Awful singing on birthdays is tradition."

"We have presents," Pepper reminded her.

Jane perked up. "Really?"

Pepper tucked a long bronze colored strand behind her ear and bent, dragging her brief case out from underneath her chair. The metal gleamed dully in the dim light and Pepper wrestled a moment with the clasps. The case sprang open finally with a audible pop and she drew out a lumpy package wrapped carefully in white tissue paper. Pepper passed it across the table to Jane, who took it with both hands.

"Wow," she said quietly, not wanting to mess up the pretty packaging, "Thank you, but you guys didn't have to get me anything."

Jane slid a finger along the seam of the tissue paper, being as careful as she could to not tear the delicate wrapping. It crinkled and whatever was in the package was soft and squashy. Even though her intentions were good, the tissue paper disintegrated quickly in her hands. The paper fell away to reveal a dress. Deep cranberry red fabric spilling out of the packaging in a heavy velvet waterfall. Jane ran her hand across the familiar soft material, knowing what it was and not hardly believing it.

"Pull it out," Pepper said anxiously, "And let me know what you think."

Jane lifted it. It was Thor's cloak alright, but it had been crafted into one of the loveliest dresses Jane had ever seen. The fabric was intricately wrapped around the torso, creating a strapless weave that hugged the body. The skirt fell loosely down to brush the wearer's knees in an uneven hemline.

Jane chuckled. The dress was lovely, but it was too funny that Thor's cloak had been made into a woman's dress.

"After the explosion it wasn't really a blanket anymore," Pepper said, watching closely for Jane's reaction, "So I made Stark turn it into a dress."

"Aww," Darcy cooed, poking Stark's pinkening cheek, "Did widdle Starkie poo sew a ladies' dress?"

"I had to," Stark said, "Pepper forgot the tests I ran initially made it almost indestructible, and she dented my favorite pair of scissors on it."

"They were purple kiddie craft scissors and the only ones I could find," Pepper said, "Don't kid yourself sweetie."

Jane clutched the dress to her chest. "Thanks, both of you. It really means a lot."

"Now mine," Darcy said, plunking a heavy package onto the table.

Whatever was in Darcy's present wasn't exactly airy and cloud-like. Darcy had duct taped a box and then knitted a neon pink wrapper that covered the entire thing. It looked like a brightly knit senior rest home project. Jane yanked at the knitting, unable to figure out how her friend had even pulled it off. Usually Darcy's knitting projects were lumpy, but this thing had stitches so tight together that Jane was fairly certain a special forces team could have used it to rappel down several cliffs and scale a few dictator's walls without it breaking.

Finally she stabbed her chocolate covered fork into the center and gouged out a hole. After that it was easy sailing, and soon she'd shredded Darcy's present into something that strongly resembled a squirrel's nest. Finally she extracted a pair of knee high brown leather boots. The dark leather was worn soft and it creaked slightly in her hands. The boots were heavy and sported a modest heel. They wouldn't trip her up and she suspected that if she tried to kick in a door these were the boots to do it in.

"I found them online. Don't worry though, they'll fit. We have the same size foot and I tried them on before I gave them to you," Darcy said. "I almost kept them," she added thoughtfully, "Anyway, now you can kick him in the head if Loki pops out and tries to do his _villain stuff_ to you."

"Villain stuff? Really?"

Stark leaned forward, "I'd like to hear more of this...villain stuff."

"Oh dear god," Natasha murmured as Darcy went into a very detailed description involving handlebar mustaches, unmarked white vans, train tracks, and synthetic rope.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

The night passed with ease, and for once Jane did not worry about the war that was looming on the horizon and the people that had already been lost to it. She didn't even remember that there was a green eyed monster with a bizarre sense of humor gunning for the entirety of Earth's population simply because they were there and he was bored. There was only good friends, good food, good drinks, and laughter. She was surprised to discover how wonderful and yet how alien it all was to her. Jane Foster could hardly believe that she could not remember a time when she could not have been happier. These people were her friends, and however an oddball group they were she would not trade them for the world.

They were all sad to see the evening come to an end, with Jane thanking Stark profusely for footing the bill to her impromptu birthday party, though when they came out the front of the building it was not a moment too soon. Electricity was beginning to spark around the Bughatti's wheels.

A buxom woman with the smallest spaghetti dress Jane had ever seen slid off of the hood as they approached and straightened her clothes. A small man with dark slicked back hair and gold chains had been taking her picture, and now he extended his meaty little paw at their group. Stark took it gingerly and shook it.

"Nice ride man," the little man said in a heavy Bronx accent, then jerked his head at the woman, "C'mon toots, we gotta roll. Got reservations, an yer makin' me late."

The group watched them scuttle up the steps of the Bellagio. "Wow," Jane said, "I have no words for that."

If a computer was capable of whining, Jarvis did an excellent job of it. "_She..She _posed_ on my paint job! And she wasn't wearing any underwear!_"

Darcy patted his fender. "Oh gross. You poor thing, that hussy."

"Hey," Stark said, and shoved his hand under Pepper's nose, "Did that guy give me any cooties?"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Just drive. We need to be getting back."

"Um, excuse me, you're Tony Stark aren't you? May I have a word?"

They all turned.

A scruffy looking young man was standing a few feet away from the car, hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets. His brown hair was short and combed, but the one word to sum him up was _rumpled_. His shirt was wrinkled and untucked, and his jacket was shabby with patched elbows. The only expensive thing about him was the heavy black camera hanging around his neck. He handed Stark a business card, who turned it over and looked at it curiously.

"My name is Peter Parker," he explained, "I'm a photographer with the Daily Bugle in New York city. I'm following the Skinwalker case. I was wondering if you had anything you'd like to say about it, since local law enforcement is contracting you for their tech."

"No comment buddy," Stark said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Keep up the good work, though. I value the press."

They left the young man standing there alone and rather forlorn looking in front of the hotel Bellagio, but when Jane glanced back for a last look he was gone. The wide open area was empty.

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_To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 18 Hope and Snooping

**Author's Note: **_The rating has been changed. Sorry to some of you who wished it to stay the way it was, but the peeps for changing it far outweighed the ones who didn't want it changed, I'm sorry. There was also one last person to weigh in on the decision: me. I am much more comfortable with it as 'M'. If you've read any of my other work, you'll get why. This way I won't have to go back through it as much to make sure my language is clean and acceptable enough before I post. Anyway, hope this works out._

_Sorry for the wait! School is hectic, and there is drama everywhere, and it took me forever to edit this chapter. And I probably missed something, let me know if I did._

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you! Thanks for all the thoughts you guys have shared, I love reading them!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 18:** Hope and Snooping

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Thor glowered at the brightly clad nobleman in front of him, wondering whether he should bother with popping the man's head off with his bare hands or just throw him out the nearby window.

He debated, weighing the pros and cons. Throttling him here and now would not be as messy, though someone would probably happen along and stop him. Throwing him out the window would burn off steam, and while it would be a horrendous splatter right in the middle of the courtyard, he'd make it someone else's problem. That was the nice thing about being an heir to the throne: you didn't have to scurry around on your hands and knees pulling entrails out of the decorative bushes and making sure there were no eyeballs in the koi pond.

"…I said, was the human wench any good?" the man asked jovially, clapping Thor on the shoulder, "She had to have been at least memorable to have had you in dispirits these many days."

There was no higher function sparking in the Thunder God's brain at that. How dare he speak of Jane that way? That smarmy smile would be his last. Thor growled unintelligibly and reached forward and grabbed the courtier's golden breastplate. He yanked and rammed his forehead into the unfortunate nobleman's, hard, leaving him cross eyed and weaving, no doubt seeing four pissed off Thunder Gods instead of just one.

The poor man squeaked and stumbled back, clutching his bruised noggin. Thor stalked after him, almost wishing he had his hammer on hand, but then again, it wouldn't do to be constantly beating up one's own courtiers.

"You're Modir never taught you respect towards the fairer sex, it seems," Thor growled, "It is a sad day indeed when your liege must be the one to administer the first lesson. I warn you, if I must do it again, the next one will be far more painful."

He gave the man a shove, and the courtier stumbled away before regaining his balance and fairly sprinting down the hall in his effort to get away.

Thor rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension pinch at his muscles, and sighed. It seemed like his mood stayed ever dark these days, and the ribbing didn't help any. He unclenched his fists and tried to dispel the tension. He spent his days scuttling around the castle, snapping at his subjects and hiding from Sif. It wasn't what he wanted, wasn't the man he wanted to be. He laid a palm against the wall. Depictions of his forefathers in battle with the Jotuns were carved into the golden plates, and he gritted his teeth. Asgard was once concerned with the sanctity of the realms. They were more concerned now with whether he'd father sons with Sif, than look to their borders. They couldn't see that if Loki prevailed in his vendetta and Midgard fell, the rest of the realms would follow. Midgard was the gateway to which all of the nine worlds were connected, and if the Terrans were defeated by his brother, chaos would ensue.

Thor found himself following the familiar path that led to his former brother's room. It was a path he had not walked since they were friends, since before Thor had led them on that fateful journey to Jotunheim.

For some reason his heart was pounding in his chest, like he was about to do battle with an entire army of Jotuns. He half expected to see Loki come charging out of his room down the corridor towards him, anxious to tell him about a prank he just pulled.

Thor pushed open the doors to Loki's chambers, pausing briefly to shake his head at the door's design: a wolf and and some kind of snake thing doing battle with a man. Huh. His brother had always been a weird one.

Loki's room was disturbingly dark, and for a moment Thor wondered if something was going to pop out and bite him. His brother had always had an unhealthy obsession with booby traps. As he took a few tentative steps into the darkness, torches flickered to life on the wall. Thor chuckled. They were green. It was as if Loki had never left: there were touches of his brother everywhere, from the black and green bedspread to the entire wall covered floor to ceiling with Loki's magical grimoires.

Thor halfheartedly poked through the heavy leather books. Memories of he and his brother seemed to be in everything he touched.

He wandered over to the four poster bed lurking in the center of the room. When they were twelve, they'd built a spaceship out of blankets and spears from the armory and pretended to sail the stars. Thor had all been for burning the Jotuns out of Jotunheim, and sacking Svartalfaheim. Loki had been more interested in exploring, wanting to see the realms that extended beyond the nine branches of Yggdrasil. Thor had ended that argument with a well placed noogie, though Loki had turned of his formal armor pink in retaliation.

"Bastard," Thor said fondly, ramming a closed fist into one of the nearer bed posts.

There was a click.

Loki's bed slid back silently, revealing a yawning square hole in the floor. Thor stared, a growing excitement filling him. He felt like he was ten again, squealing in delight over secret chambers. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that this was here.

He crept down the stairs that slid silently into place in front of them from the walls. The darkness made the trek seem longer than it actually was, and Thor wondered briefly if Loki had ever tripped and fallen on his face on those sliding death traps, not that Loki would ever admit it. Loki had never been anything but cool and unflappable.

Once Thor reached the bottom, which he knew because the surface was flat and he hadn't tripped and mashed his face into anything, he wondered whether he should wait for something to happen or just blunder off into the dark. Before he could decide on either choice, the lights flickered on.

Thor rolled his eyes. The torches were burning green. Again.

Loki had supply selves completely lining one wall. The dark wooden racks were filled with every thing imaginable, and they seemed to be Loki's various pranks that were in different stages of development. Everything imaginable was on those shelves, from potions and eyeballs floating in green goo to piles of mechanical parts. Loki had different little white tags labeling his creations: _success_, _failure_, or _in progress_. Thor poked at a metal jaw with hinges and it snapped closed, nearly taking off his finger.

Next to snapping jaws was a huge glass bottle filled with a sluggish dark liquid that smelled like peaches. Stamped across the tag in Loki's spidery handwriting were the bold words _SUCCESS_.

Thor picked it up, feeling the pocked glass under his fingertips and chuckled. Loki had put this stuff in Sif's shampoo when they were thirteen. Sif used to have long luxurious blond hair, and she had been very proud of it. Loki had dyed it black as a practical joke. Unfortunately for Sif, it was now years and years later and it was still a glossy raven's wing black. He shook his head. Poor Sif. Oh well, at least she'd adapted well.

He moved on, looking through the various contraptions and potions that his brother had been in the process of creating before he fell.

Thor stopped at a box marked '_FOR THOR'S UNDERGARMETS/CODPIECE_'. Oh dear god. Thor closed his eyes and shuddered. He did NOT want to know.

But curiosity got the better of him. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them his blue irises crackled with lightning. If there was anything weird or creepy in that damn box, he was going to fry the ever loving dickens out of it. Thor pried the lid open with Mjolnir's heavy blunt edge and peered inside, and was greeted by the sight of hundreds of tiny mechanized crabs crawling and creeping around the confines of the box and each other.

Thor imagined the little bastards creeping around his nether parts and shuddered. Ew.

He closed the box before any of its occupants could escape and then bonked the lid with his hammer. The box flattened into a squarish Mjolnir shaped crater, and Thor felt better to see that all of the little crab things had been flattened into one large metal pancake. A metal pancake that neither creeped nor crawled, or threatened anything sensitive with pinching.

Thor moved on through what was unmistakably Loki's lab. Half of the stuff he didn't recognize, and what he did recognize gave him the creeps.

Towards the back of the room stood more of Loki's completed projects. Loki had carefully displayed his finished creations on lighted pedestals in a shadow imitation of Odin's own Vault of Conquest items. Thor moved along the display, rather in awe.

His brother may have been a master of mischief and trickery, but there was no denying that Loki was a genius. Any one of the marvels in itself would have been spectacular, but to think that he'd accomplished all of them was slightly unsettling.

The last item in the line up was different than the others. For one thing it was huge, standing a few feet higher than Thor's six foot three. Its shape was sleek and slightly equine. Eight circular engines, four on either side, lined its sides. There was a carefully detailed manual lying next to it, more of extolling Loki's brilliance rather than explaining anything, but it still got the point across. The metal contraption was an interdimensional ship, capable of traveling to any one of the nine realms. He could have sung he was so happy. Seeing Jane again was once again possible, and the reality of it hit him like a giants punch.

Thor stooped to grab the booklet for later perusal, and noticed something engraved into the shiny metal: S_leipneir_.

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"DOCTOR FOSTER!"

The door of Jane's trailer flew open with a bang, hinges creaking like a symphony of ghouls. The shiny chrome handle left a dent in the dull metal wall. Nick Fury stood silhouetted in the doorway like an avenging warrior about to bring down a world of hurt on the evil doers of the world. It was impressive, or at least it would have been if anyone had been around to see it.

Silence greeted him, and he would not have been surprised at all to hear crickets. Jane Foster's trailer was empty. Fury could almost feel the steam coming out of his ears. She was gone. Again. If the time he spent hunting down his various assistants and scientists actually equaled the time he spent ridding the world of villains, than the earth as people knew it would be a pretty damn peaceful place all things considered.

He wanted to go find a heavy surface to go bang his forehead into.

They were never around when he needed them, and when he didn't need them and was making important conference calls at 5 AM, they'd stumble into his office looking for the coffee pot. He looked around again at the empty trailer. This was ridiculous. Jane and Stark and Darcy had played hooky for the fourth time in one week, doing God knew what. He didn't want to know. He didn't even care, so long as they got their shit done.

'_And_,' he thought, looking around the interior of Jane's trailer, '_This was most definitely_ not _getting shit done. This didn't even hit the faded gray area of progress_.'

Jane's trailer was an absolute train wreck. It always irked him that the geniuses he employed were never known along with their Pine-sol skills as well as their brains. Dr. Foster had dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and the blankets on her bed were not neatly made, but were trailing across the linoleum as though she'd preferred to use momentum to get herself untangled from the bed covers instead of doing it the neat way.

Her fold out table was literally invisible under the heavy weight of all the scraps of paper and Excel printouts. One gloved finger poked at the empty tubs of cake batter ice cream lying under and on top of all of her notes. He casually read her research while tossing the empty ice cream containers into the already over flowing garbage. Most of her figures were on wormhole algorithms, but they were not applicable to a large scale wormhole capable of allowing a human being passage. Fury chewed his bottom lip, wondering just how much he should tell her to get her ass in gear.

Jane Foster had had it rough, there was no denying that. Loki had gone after her like a dog went after a pheasant. There was no telling what would have happened to her if Stark hadn't figured out how to break into the trickster's pocket wormhole. For a while, she was scared and driven. Then Jane had started training with Natasha, and became more confident in herself. That was all well and good, but what she didn't understand, was that while she was certainly learning new skills, she was still a target.

Loki had by no means stopped hunting her.

It was taking everything Nick Fury had to make sure that the villain with daddy issues didn't yank her into the abyss again and scramble her brains. Jane Foster thought she was safe, but it was all just luck and good agents watching her twenty four seven. Coulson hadn't had a straight night sleep in weeks.

He rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

She certainly wasn't helping matters any by scuttling off from the compound -where he couldn't really protect her- every chance she got. At least Stark was with her. The man was a flamboyant dandy, but he was certainly no pushover.

Fury wandered over to the massive chalk board she had set up at the foot of her bed and crossed his arms. It was covered in her spidery handwriting, along with the sweeping diagram of a sword. He glowered at it and bent closer. As he read her notes, his eyes widened. He had preferred to get his degree in making people cry, rather than physics and science, but he was by no means retarded. He new enough to recognize a plan when he saw one.

There was merit in the design, but lower down, where she'd listed out possible materials, she'd drawn angry stick figures and rampaging monsters and tornadoes. Every single material was crossed out in deep powdery white chalk lines, belying her frustration. Underneath the sword's design she'd scrawled the words:_ Godslayer_.

Godslayer. Fury couldn't help himself and threw back his head and laughed, fairly rattling the trailer windows with his glee. This was perfect. It might just be the break he needed to draw the little Norse asshole out of hiding. Loki was already gunning for her, sure, but now Fury had the means to give him the target he wanted.

"You want a sword, Ms. Foster," he murmured, grinning, "I'll give you a freaking sword."

The chalk board didn't say anything, though he half expected it would. Fury shook his head. "COULSON!" he bellowed.

Phil Coulson came scrambling into the trailer, straightening his suit and tie from his mad dash. "You called?"

"Pack up all of Foster's notes," Nick Fury said, pointing at the chalkboard, "Everything pertaining to that thing there."

Coulson hesitated. "You sure, Sir? She didn't handle it too well the last time we 'borrowed' her research."

Fury snorted. "I _own_ her research. Besides ownership is 9/10ths of the law. Finders keepers, if you will."

"...If you say so, Sir."

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_To be continued..._


	19. Chapter 19 Hunters and Prey

**Author's Note:** _Wow, I'm tired. Between work and school: I am just bleh. Don't remember where I heard the saying, but I feel like not enough butter spread over a giant piece of toast. On another note, this fic hit 400 reviews! Holy cow guys, thanks so much!_

_Please read and review, I love hearing from you!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 19**: Hunters and Prey

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Jane looked at her trailer, and wanted to scream. They'd done it again. All of her notes, all of her research looked as though someone had come through with a very picky bulldozer. Everything pertaining to the Godslayer sword she'd been designing was gone. They'd even taken her chalkboard and the notes she'd scrawled on the back of poptart wrappers with permanent marker. Instead, now all of her notes were carefully indexed and sitting in several file folders neatly stacked on her kitchen table. Right smack next to them, bold as pie, was a white basket of cleaning supplies along with Mr. Clean's List of Helpful Cleaning Tips.

Jane picked up the sticky note on the Pin-sol and read it:

_Ms. Foster-_

_We have appropriated your notes for a project vital to S.H.E.I.L.D. and the Avengers, classified higher than your clearance, and hope you understand. In the mean time, clean your trailer. Director Fury says there's mold attaining Stone Age intelligence in your refrigerator._

_-Coulson._

"Ugh the nerve of that man!" she muttered, "I'm going into Fury's office for coffee more often."

Darcy's head popped out of the freezer where she'd been rooting around in search of food. "Eh, it's Fury. He probably had no personal bubble instruction when he was a kid. You're out of poptarts, by the way."

"Look behind the frozen peas."

"Aha!"

"Hey," Jane said after a moment, "Would you say my trailer is messy?"

Darcy emerged from the freezer with a huge frozen block of strawberry pop tarts and surveyed Jane's trailer. "Nah. It has character."

"Character, eh?"

A mouse ran out from under the sink and began trying to drag a massive pop tart crumb back to its little mousy lair next to the garbage bin. They both paused their conversation as the tiny brown creature nosed and shoved the rapidly crumbling poptart crumb to the sink, leaving a Hansel and Gretel-esque crumb trail in its wake. The mouse rammed the chunk into the dark cavern of its mouse hole, creating a corona of crumbs around the hole. Jane cringed. Mice. Blech.

"Maybe a little less character would be good," Darcy said finally.

Jane picked up the Pin-sol and a roll of paper towels. "Yep, less character would be good."

"I'll go find some mouse traps."

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Fury sat down at the wide mahogany expanse of his desk. The door was shut and his office was quiet for once, though he knew from painful experience that this moment in time was a rare one and would not last. There would always be a crises to be averted, questions to be answered, angry pregnant women searching for Stark to get rid of, but for now he had a moment to himself. Fury savored it. The white blinds covering the window were a warm golden color with their effort to hold the sun back, and a few rays made it past their cheap metal slats illuminating the dust in the room like priceless fairy sparkles instead of floating dirt particles.

He shuffled through the paper work on his desk. Coulson had made copies of all of Dr. Foster's notes and had organized them neatly in a pile, waiting to be read and taken measure of. Nick Fury leafed through them for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

He felt like once he went through with his plan, there was no turning back.

Jane Foster would be the Fox set loose for the Hounds. Once she was back on his radar, Loki would hunt her down without mercy. Fury hoped that the Avengers would be fast enough to get him before that happened. He had full faith in his team and he had full faith that Loki would take the bait, but he did not feel comfortable with the fact that it might come at the expense of Jane's life.

Loki winning meant havoc on Earth and it was only one life, but still, it was unsettling. If Jane Foster died at the hands of the madman to win the war, it would taint the victory and the peace afterward.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He reached into his desk and pulled out a heavy thick sheaf of expensive white paper, reserved to official letters and documentation. He caught a whiff of it and grinned. That was the once good thing about paperwork: new paper always smelled like promise and mystery, though he would never live it down if Stark found out.

He picked up his favorite ballpoint pen, worn with use, and began to write.

_X-_

_Hello old friend, it's been a while. You're up to date I trust on the situation in New Mexico? It pains me to admit it, but we're in a bit of a bind concerning the newcomer to our planet, which I wrote to you about a year ago. I am sending you the blueprints and the request for the material needed for this new operation. It details the extent of our plan to combat this threat, but I must say it rides on your help. I have contacted R. Richards and given him the same information, for we will need his group's assistance in this as well. This issue is rapidly becoming all of our problems, and I believe it is something we must come together to combat. S.H.I.E.L.D. cannot handle this on its own. I am aware of one of your operatives and his familiarity of the material in question. I hope that we can come to an arrangement, or in turn that you can refer me to Dr. Myron Maclain's location, as we were unable to procure him._

_May God help us in the dark days to come,_

_-F_

Nick Fury folded his letter and rammed it into an envelope. The letter, which the success of so many lives depended on, looked very unthreatening sitting on his desk in its creamy oatmeal colored envelope. He ripped off the envelopes adhesive strip and sealed it closed, before scrawling a single black X on the address line.

"COULSON!" he bellowed.

Phil Coulson cracked the door open and popped his head in. He looked slightly harried and Fury wondered briefly which of the scientists or agents was harassing him this time. He respected Coulson in his go-to job. It wasn't easy dealing with the quirks and habits of all of the various heroes, scientists, and employees of the Avengers, but Coulson did it like a pro. A good assistant was worth their weight in gold, and Coulson was no different.

"Yessir?"

Fury handed him the letter. "You're going to North Salem effective immediately. This needs to be personally delivered."

Phil glanced at the address and nodded. "Right away sir."

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Heimdall chuckled quietly and shook his head and winced. "Ouch."

Thor peered into the star studded abyss as though he would be able to see what Asgard's guardian could, and sighed. "What trouble is my Jane endeavoring to discover now?"

"Your Lady's commander has approved her further training in the warrior ways. She has passed her final tests in the rights of their warrior art _Jiu Jitsu_."

Ah. He remembered his own warrior competency tests when he came of age, and he winced to think of his Jane going through even a shadowy resemblance of it. The warrior tests, while fulfilling, had been the most painful three weeks of his life. Thor may not be able to view Jane Foster as Heimdall could, but he certainly remembered his own training with his father and the rest of his Norse kin. Odin was a good father and a firm and wise leader, but on the training mats he had no equal. There had been many a night young Thor had spent nursing bruises and cuts before he finally had enough skill to earn his father's approving eye.

Thor felt a pride blossoming in him.

His Jane had grown from a shy woman who had barely been able to look him in the eye, to a formidable warrior in only a few months' time. Any obstacle that her master, one Natasha Romanov who was a skilled warrior herself from what Heimdall had recounted, put in front of her Jane threw herself at until she defeated it. Thor wished he could be there to congratulate her. Achieving a warrior's full honors was a moment to commemorate, and it was sad that she was not surrounded with warriors welcoming her within their ranks.

He thought briefly of his discovery of Sleipnir still sequestered away in Loki's lab and slumped. From what he could gather the vessel was a single use only, and would disintegrate on return to Asgard. It pained him that he could not see his Jane on a whim, whenever he wanted. His use of Sleipnir would only be in greatest trial for their worlds. Thor's heart ached. When he had seen the interdimensional ship it was like it had been an answer to his hopes, but now he felt like he'd been sucker punched. He would not be able to see Jane it seemed, not yet. He hoped that this was not Fate's answer to their love, that they would destined to be apart. It was something the bards would sing about: tragic and depressing.

Over his dead body.

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The woman poked at her face in the mirror, the point of a perfectly manicured nail digging into the skin slightly. She made no sound of pain as a drop of ruby red rolled down her cheek.

Two large doe like brown eyes stared back at her set in a exotic dark face. Waves of shiny black hair cascaded in light feathery tufts over smooth coffee with cream skin, and her full red lips curled in a sneer. Her skin was flawless and she stood naked in front of the mirror. Her breasts were full and round and her waist was tiny. She had applied smoky makeup to her eyelids, making her eyes fairly glow. The woman's finger pressed harder and drew a line down her face to her mouth. Her skin parted in its wake, dark blood welling up in thick beads after it. She showed her teeth in a snarl.

Ugly. It didn't fit right.

The woman drew back a fist and drove it into the mirror's surface, shattering it. Glass shards stuck out of her knuckles and the fractured image again reminded her that the body was ugly and imperfect. She shrieked and slammed both fists again and again into the mirror until there was nothing left, and the ground around her feet was littered with shattered diamonds.

"That's no way to treat a mirror."

Her spine froze and she turned to the window, the window that she thought she had closed but was now open. The demon that had chased her from New York was crouched there on the sill watching her through his fathomless white eyes. He casually stepped through the window, a red and blue monster that moved fluidly across the glass strewn carpet towards her.

"Found you," he said.

His tone was joking, but she knew he was there to kill her. Quick as lightning she darted for the door. She'd run naked down the hallways if she had to. As she crashed into the door she found the surface coated with sticky adhesive spider's web. She ripped herself away and turned to face him, growling. She could feel her facade failing and knew he could see her skin darkening further and her teeth sharpening. Dammit, she'd have to fight him and she wasn't ready.

"Here," he said, raising his wrist, "You seem to be missing clothes."

Gossamer webbing shot from his wrists to cover her from her knees to her shoulders and she snarled, trying to rip the stuff off of her. Nasty. He was ruining her skin, making it even uglier. She envisioned wearing his corpse as a dress and the blood frenzy made red swim across her vision. She was going to kill him slowly, and once he was dead she was going to hunt down his lovely little redhead. Maybe _her_ skin would be right. It was worth a shot.

It was quiet for the space of a second as they stared at each other. Wind blew the lighter mirror shards across in a quiet tinkling across the floor. Her red eyes met his, and as one they lunged at each other each doing their best to kill the other.

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_To be continued..._


	20. Chapter 20 Old People and Old Heroes

**Author's Note:** _The last chapter? Imagine Kim Kardashian and Tobey MacGuire knocking the crap out of each other. Hah! Yeah, I'm weird. Sorry it took so long for this to be out, it's been sitting on my computer for ages but school is slammin me with midterm after midterm and work has been giving me extra hours so I've hardly had time to do anything. I know the writing is a little wonky on this chapter, but I had to put something out. It was sitting in my computer, gathering dust and making me crazy._

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing. Also, please note that much of the locations and information is made up. I did enough research to create my settings, but made a lot of stuff up. If you are a viking enthusiast I'm sorry for butchering your field of study, please bear with me._

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**Chapter 20:** Old People and Old Heroes

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Spider Man peeled himself off of the frigid black marble floor before hobbling to the hotel room's cramped little balcony. He really was getting too old for this shit. Thirty six wasn't old, per se, but he often found himself wishing he could spend his days corralling a hoard of ginger haired tots with Mary Jane's eyes rather than beating the crap out of the world's misguided villains.

He paused to admire the gaping hole in one of the shiny gold filigree covered walls of the fancy pants hotel. The hole did a excellent job revealing the inside of the suite next to the one he was in. They had started throwing furniture at one point, and he was pretty sure that was what had made the hole to begin with. The bed had followed soon after, lying upside down and straddling the jagged hole big enough to fit a small car through. He wasn't sure who had made the hole, but he was pretty sure she'd lobbed the dresser at him and he had swung the bed at her in retaliation.

He surveyed the mess. There was one perk about this masked hero job and that was he didn't have to clean up after himself. The hotel was going to have one heck of a repair bill. He felt bad, but there was nothing he could really do about it. The nice thing about being a shadowy super hero was that no one knew who you were, and they couldn't chase you down and fine you for the mess you made after you saved the city.

There was blood everywhere, most of it from her. It stained the plush carpets and bonded with the glass and wood shards creating a sort of raspberry jelly like paste.

He wondered how long he'd been out. The last thing he remembered was her big naked ass escaping out the window, as she shrieked in her guttural voice promising revenge on his children and his guts and whatever. None of the stuff she ever said ever made much sense. He couldn't have been unconscious long, which explained the wail of cop sirens drawing closer. He supposed he was lucky. This round was a draw.

He scuffed his feet on the floor, kicking some of the debris into a bloody splintery pile. They'd kicked the shit out of each other, and since he came out less wounded he figured he was more the winner. He didn't feel like he'd won, though.

The Skinwalker was hurt enough that she wouldn't be a big threat for some time, but he'd also failed to destroy her. Again.

She was starting to show contempt with the body she was wearing when he challenged her. It wouldn't be long before she started hunting a new victim.

Spider Man's shoulders sagged. He had failed, and in failing to kill the Skinwalker he had doomed another young woman to die. He didn't know where the Skinwalker had come from, and he didn't know what drove her, but he did know that if he didn't stop her she would keep killing. Whatever she was and wherever she came from, she was bat shit insane. He had dug up enough records from previous murders, most of them in Norway oddly enough, to know that she hadn't started in New York, and his city wouldn't be her last.

This had to end. Now.

He pulled out a battered Nokia from his pocket and sent Mary Jane a quick text consisting of an _'i luv u'_ and_ 'dont wry im ok'_. Before he left New York, she'd told him quite plainly that if he got himself killed she'd be down inside of a day with a shotgun and a stolen case of Harry's little pumpkin grenade thingies to avenge him. He smiled slightly. She was certainly a firecracker, and one of a kind.

He didn't know where he'd be without MJ, and it certainly wouldn't be still running around in blue and red body armor hunting the villains of his world. Without her he probably would have died a long time ago, killed by Doc Oc or one of the other loons that kept popping up, promising world domination and other standard threats. MJ was his rock of Gibraltar in the eternal sea of crazy.

His shoulders straightened. That was why he had to keep hunting the Skinwalker. He had been a big enough thorn in the creepy otherworldly serial killer's side to know that if he fell, he knew exactly where the monster would head. To New York, and to one of the only people that had mattered to her hunter. MJ wasn't safe as long as the Skinwalker was alive.

Spider Man crouched on the window sill. He could hear the shouts of police echoing up the stairwell through the helpful hole in the wall. They were banging on the door, shouting alternately for him to 'FREEZE' and to 'OPEN UP.' He wondered why they simply didn't just come through the hole in the wall. They would have seen him then. Some things just didn't make sense. Gaping holes in the wall were much more practical than doors.

Before they broke down the door he'd already sprung out the window to disappear into the growing dusk. There was hunting to be done.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

"I'm glad we could come to terms," Odin said softly, peering at the forms and maps covering the table he was leaning over.

Thor glanced up at him, but chose not to say anything and instead went back to indexing the old Jotun campaign records for anything that would help the Asgard defenses. Odin had given Thor the task of simultaneously repairing the damage done to the Jotuns if it was possible, and if the Jotuns refused the Asisstance of the Aesir than it was also Thor's job to see to Asgard's defense measures.

It was a daunting task, and also a great honor. Thor knew the trust that was bestowed upon him, and yet was glad of it. This was his mess to clean up. He'd caused it. He'd fix it.

With the death of Laufey and the destruction of most of Jotunehim the Jotuns were going to be weak and limping. They could be crushed if the Aesir desired it. Thor's plan was to offer the olive branch to the Jotuns in hopes that they could avoid a war that would decimate most of the nine worlds. Laufey had certainly wanted war because he'd had a long festering grudge against Odin. Thor hoped that with the near complete destruction of Jotunheim by Loki, that anger would instead be directed at the Trickster. It was a dirty trick, but a necessary one. It would prevent widespread death on all sides. Thor hoped anyway. Hope was the key thing.

Asgard was taking no chances at any rate. While offering to foot the workload for the restoration of Jotunheim, they were also bolstering their own defenses and were in talkes with Alfheim and the good dwarfs of Svartalfaheim.

Thor hoped that the Jotuns would accept their help, but Loki's treachery ran deep. Thor didn't know what his brother had actually given the Jotuns, and Asgard had to be prepared for the event that they knew enough to come right to the gates of Asgard.

Thor hid a deep breath. He had not told his father of Loki's secret lab. It was extremely selfish as it could be possibly the key to finding his brother, but it was also the only way he had of seeing Jane. He knew Sleipnir would be confiscated if Odin ever discovered it.

So he kept silent.

"Have you and Sif dined yet today?" Odin asked, trying again.

Thor merely nodded. If that uncomfortable formal dinner where no one talked except for the stiffest formalities and he'd merely picked at his food, then yes, he'd 'dined'. There was nothing for him to say. Odin was trying, in his own overbearing and kingly way, to smooth things over and make his son feel better.

The young god had to suppress a derisive snort. The Allfather just did not understand that his son had changed. Pre-banished Thor would have been delighted to finally acquire the coveted title of Heir to the throne of Asgard, and along with it the fame and women that would come with it.

Pre-banished Thor wouldn't have minded being married to Sif. Sif was a very beautiful woman and also his long time friend. He would have done what he was told and wed Sif. His father's word had been everything to him and he would not have questioned it.

It would have worked.

But he _had_ been banished, banished from Asgard and from the only home he had ever known. Thor had been angry and hurt, and he had taken that feeling and lashed out at anything and every one in feigned arrogance and anger. Jane Foster had been the one to care for him and had been unafraid of him. She had seen past his projected arrogance and had taken him in anyway. She and her people had cared for him when he'd had nothing, and in turn they'd accidentally taught him kindness and humility.

He owed them his unerring allegiance for that great gift, and he had given Jane freely his love.

And his heart soared when he remembered that she had returned it.

He couldn't help a bit of a grin when he thought of his little Terran scientist. Court life had been getting to him lately and as such he'd been down bothering Heimdall more often for updates on Jane and his improv Earth family.

So he knew that Tuesdays were poker nigts, and Jane and Darcy teamed up to take down Stark. Natasha contented herself with ribbing the losers, and while Hawkeye was absolutely vicious on the battlefield his poker face sucked worse than a five year old girl who'd been into the icecream and had chocolate all over her face.

Thor felt a twinge as he thought of them. He felt like a huge baby for wanting to whine over his predicament, but court life was so _boring_. There was no spice here, no fun, and more importantly, no Jane.

The Norn's crystals had completely left his body so as his Jane had so delicately put it: there were no more damsel visiting acid trips to be had.

He suppressed another sigh and felt ridiculous. He was moping and brooding. Dear god he was pathetic.

Thor gave gave himself a little shake and yanked the Bifrost plans towards him.

"Here Father," he said, "The plans for the Bifrost reconstruction and the Jotuns. Heimdall has been overseeing the construction of the Bridge, and it is complete enough to reach Jotunheim. The farther realms, Helheim and Midgard are still lost to us, but we can now reach the closer ones. In a few days we will be ready to send an envoy to the Frost Giants."

Odin stoked his beard, his one good eye scanning the plans.

"Well done," he said at last, quietly, "Thor, you may not believe this, not yet, but_ I am so very proud of you._ You make my heart glad."

Odin left, patting his son on the shoulder. That one pat conveyed all of the trust and caring Odin had for his son, and guiltily Thor felt like another weight had been added to the invisible load on his shoulders. He slumped into the chair, staring at the plans and wishing for Jane.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Dr. Lenore Fogsworth, Professor of Norse Antiquities at Cambridge University, crawled out of the remains of an ancient viking longboat at a dig site in an as of yet officially unnamed site miles east of Trondheim. The sight, unofficially named Hafrstadr (literally goat dwelling) on account of all of the goat skeletons they'd been finding, was located right smack on the border of Norway and Sweden on the summit of a small mountain. The air wasn't exactly thin, as the location was more of a glorified hill, but all the climbing she was doing did tend to get to her after a while.

She dusted off her jeans, peering out across the site at the mist hovering over the string and yardstick grid pattern that her team had erected above the site. The florescent colored string and the reflective yardsticks looked like alien larvae in the early morning light.

Lenore took a minute to catch her breath and she did her best to ignore the aching in her knees. She wasn't the crotchety old hag that some of her dumber interns who kept failing exams made her out to be, but she wasn't exactly young anymore. Her knees certainly weren't what they used to be and crawling in and out of viking burial boats didn't help any.

She pulled her cane out of the ground, fingers closing into the grooves around the nobbled head worn by time. The sturdy oak handle was a welcome feeling in her hand and the wood quickly warmed to her touch. Lenore strode off across the site towards camp, boots crunching in the gravely dirt. The silence of the morning combined with her solitary footsteps made her feel like it was only her in the world. Her and the quiet souls of the dead.

She sighed when she noticed the pale light of a small electric lantern bobbing towards her.

Her assistant came scrambling out of the mist towards her, almost passing out as he skidded to a halt. Frank Cartier was six two, had short flaming red hair and more tattoos than a punk rocker. He would also benefit from more exercise, Lenore thought watching him try to get control of his air starved lungs, as spending his time beating Elites to death with a laser sword in _Halo: Reach_ didn't seem to be helping him any.

"Dr. Lenore," he panted, doubled over and hands on his knees.

"That's my name," she said patiently, waiting for him to get to the point. She was slightly annoyed that her quiet walk had been interrupted.

"They found something," he managed to gasp out.

"Did they now? Another goat I'll bet," she muttered.

Lenore grabbed up Frank's lamp and made her way back to camp, him trotting along behind her. It wasn't odd that her team of young grad students had found something, they _found_ things all the time, mostly with each other. Honestly there was more drama and intertwined relationships in her camp than a cheap novel. What was odd was that they were working this early in the morning. Most of the time she couldn't get them moving until after ten.

In record time she made it across the site and stopped short in surprise.

Below her her students were grouped around a structure. It was old, very old, and even without dating it she could tell it was even older than the viking longboats surrounding it. She had been wondering what the Vikings, mainly a seafaring people, had been doing dragging their burial boats up to a godforsaken hill miles and miles inland. Now she knew. The boats were all grouped in clumps around the structure. The structure in itself was a massive sphere made of metal larger than a three story building, half buried in the mud. A needle protruded from the top of it pointed straight at the sky.

Lenore's breath caught in her chest and her heart gave a weak little flutter. The wind licked through the camp like a cold forgotten whisper, peeling her whitening dreads off of her neck, slipping them loose from their pin. She didn't notice but stared at the sphere. This was like nothing she'd ever seen, and yet it was covered in runes that predated even the Norse _Edda_. She swallowed. The vikings had not engraved the metal, it looked like it was too hard for them to effect, but the stones surrounding the structure were covered in runic poetry, praising the structure. What she could make out from where she was standing, the words _fara_, travel, and _stjarna_, stars, were repeated over and over again.

If she was correct, it would be the find of the century.

"They found something," Frank repeated quietly.

Lenore could only nod. They found something, oh they most certainly did. She couldn't wait to gloat at the board members once she got back to Cambridge.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

A few miles away, at the base of the hill, four government issued American black Hummers screeched to a halt, spraying gravel. The lead Hummer's door creaked open and a shiny leather shoe planted itself on the ground.

Phil Coulson extracted himself from the Hummer and poked at his GPS. Twelve Avengers agents in SWAT gear popped out of their respective Hummers and grouped around him.

"Is this the place sir?" one asked.

"Yep," Coulson said, "The student sent out the text an hour ago to a friend. Let's move out before the information goes public people."

The team moved up the hill, Coulson following. He could hear his team shouting orders at the students and their professor, a crazy old lady with dreadlocks and an impressive set of lungs, as they herded the group away from the site. How the old biddy got a Ph.D was anyone's guess. He winced as the Professor walloped one of his boys on the head with her cane and the poor man dropped like a stone. She never stopped shrieking at them like a sailor, something about _'stealing the find of the century'_ and '_you government assholes_'.

Coulson sighed. Some days he really hated scientists.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	21. Chapter 21 Happy Halloween!

**Author's Note:** _This is a shameless Halloween chapter, an excuse to dress characters up as cool cats from cool games and cool films. I love Halloween. Hope you like it and have a happy, safe, and fun filled holiday! AND DRESS UP!_

_Oh by the way, my Jarvis is obviously Paul Bettany, since that actor does the voicing for Jarvis and he's amazing. Just so's you know (^_^)_

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing, not Sucker Punch, the Priest manga, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Fight Club, Ann Aguire's Grimspace series, none of that_.

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**Chapter 21**: October 31 and Expos

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Jane shivered in front of the floor length mirror propped up at the foot of her bed and tried to tug her costume in both directions to cover as much of her exposed skin as possible. When Pepper had asked her what she wanted to be for Stark's Halloween themed 2011 October Stark Expo, she had tossed out something completely at random based on the last good movie she could remember. She hadn't thought anything of it, her attention having been more directed at her training rather than on dressing up for Halloween.

And her training meant absolutely everything these days.

Approximately four weeks ago, Natasha had let it slip when she had had Jane in a headlock that Coulson's team had taken possession of an alternate Bifrost site on Earth.

Jane had been almost giddy when she had heard the news. To top that off, Nick Fury had stopped her in the hallway a day later and casually mentioned that if she wanted to resubmit her application for the Asgard team, he'd look it over.

"You've grown a lot Dr. Foster. When you first started this project, your gooey love struck eyes made me queasy. You've come a long way. I know Romanoff is a hard task master and she's promoted you with flying colors. That being said, the gooey eyes still creep me out, but I admire your dedication," he had said, a sort of reluctant admiration coloring his deep voice.

Jane had coughed and shuffled her feet embarrassedly. She didn't have gooey eyes, did she? "Um. Thank you?"

He had nodded to her then strode off, mumbling to himself about gooey eyes being the fault of too much disney.

Jane resumed tugging at the leather of her costume, shrugging off the memories.

When she'd told Pepper she thought she could be Sweet Pea from _Sucker Punch_ she hadn't realized that Pepper would actually buy the costume used in the film, or how skimpy the costume would actually be. The corset cloak barely contained her chest but it did an excellent job of squeezing her torso like a tube of toothpaste. Jane spun in front of the mirror and chewed her lip.

On one hand the fact that so much skin was showing made her feel almost skeezy, but on the other hand she couldn't deny that the costume was sooo incredibly_ cool_. Pepper certainly hadn't gone cheap when she'd 'borrowed' Stark's card for the Avenger's costumes. The corset cloak was real tooled soft leather and the pauldron fixed to her left shoulder was lightweight steel. She spun again, finally giving up on the fact that the costume wouldn't cover as much as she wanted it to, and enjoyed the way the heavy leather tails brushed her heels. She decided to forgo the bikini bottom the costume required and instead pulled on her shortest spandex workout shorts. Her modesty radar improved slightly after that.

Jane gave up looking at herself and plopped down onto the bed to tug on her boots. They were thigh high and took some acrobatics to get into. She had to resort to kicking the wall a few times to finally get her heels all the way down.

Darcy popped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam and floral smelling perfume. "Good God Jane, what are you _doing_?"

"Getting my boots on. What are you do- WOW," Jane said, mouth open.

Darcy twirled, showcasing a tidy black dress that Jane was pretty sure had been stolen from Natasha. Darcy was too busty to fit into anything of Pepper's.

"You look really nice, but aren't you dressing up?" Jane asked, "The Expo's a costume party."

Darcy grinned mischeiviously. "Sorry boss lady, but I have a date tonight."

Jane slumped. "I have to go to the Expo by myself?"

"Yep," Darcy chuckled, "You have to fend for yourself among the caviar and the rich corporate costumed hunks. Whatever will you do?"

Jane smiled sadly, unable to help herself in thinking how much fun it would be if Thor were there. Her mouth drooled when she imagined him as James Bond, muscles straining against that sharp black suit, blue eyes flashing at her as that devastating smile worked its way up to her-

Jane smacked herself. Continuing that line of thought just meant uncomfortable awkwardness abound.

Darcy clucked sympathetically. "Thinking about Thor dressed in something horrendously sexy again?"

"Yeah," Jane sighed, "I really should know better by now."

The sound of a motorcycle roaring up to the trailer interrupted them. Little bits of gravel peppered the side of the trailer as the rider slid to a sharp stop. The rider revved the engine several times and Jane heaved herself to her feet, shrugging Sweet Pea's gun and sword harness onto her back.

"That's my ride," Jane said, fastening the harness clip at her chest, "Natasha said she'd give me a lift."

Darcy peeked out of the window and whistled. "Try not to die, that bike she's driving looks like a monster."

Jane grinned. "I'll do my best. Have a nice date, ditcher."

Darcy stuck out her tongue as Jane strode out the door. Jane paused at the sight of Natasha in Jessica Rabbit's slinky glittery red dress astride a blazing red Ducati Diavel. Jane shook her head and decided not to ask how the Black Widow was planning to drive an Italian racing bike in six inch red stilettos.

Jane slid onto the motorcycle behind Natasha, holding tight to her waist for dear life. She knew from painful experience that the Black Widow drove like a demon. Natasha revved the Ducati's 1198 CC engine, gravel spraying again in a wide arc as the bike jumped forward, roaring off into the desert like a hell hound after a wayward soul.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Natasha pulled to a stop outside of one of Vegas's premier luxury hotels, the Four Seasons, and tossed her keys at one of the more braver looking valets. Jane had to give the man credit: there was no way she would ever want to park something as impressive and as dangerous looking as the Diavel. When the man got close enough to put a hand on the handle bars, Natasha grabbed him by his vest front and gave him her best Black Widow glare.

"Not a scratch on this, you hear? Or I will pull every single one of your fingers off and see how many holes on your body I can fit them in," she hissed.

The man turned several shades of pale but he straddled the Diavel and puttered off to the parking garage. Jane was impressed that he'd been able to even drive after having Jessica Rabbit threaten to dismember him and plug leaks with his fingers. They walked up the white marble staircase where Coulson was helping one of the hotel staff usher people inside. Jane pitied him. None of the Avenger's agents would be able to really afford tickets but they had to be at the event, and so Coulson had to stand outside with the staff in order to have every single one of the non ticket toting individuals vetted. Jane was disappointed to see Coulson was still in his trademark black suit.

"What're you dressed up as?" Jane asked when he nodded at them.

"A Man in Black," he deadpanned.

Jane snorted. "More like Captain Lazypants."

The hotel staff standing nearby snickered and Coulson went pink before he shooed them inside.

Jane was not sadly not surprised when they walked into the grand ballroom, however. It was amazing how many of the Avengers attending were just incredibly lazy and opted to dress as themselves for the evening, rather than actually hunt down a good costume.

Jane had absolutely no idea how Stark found them in the Four Season's glittery and crowded ballroom, but he zeroed in on them seconds after they walked in the door. He wormed his way in between she and Natasha, throwing his arms over both their shoulders. It was not surprising that he had already started in on the liquor, and if the bottle of champagne dangling from his fingers wasn't a good indication than the smell of fancy booze around him would have been. Natasha brushed off the confetti he'd gotten on her and Jane tugged the bottle from his hand after pulling Sweet Pea's hood over her face. The lights were much too bright.

"What are you?" Jane asked.

Stark had dyed his hair an ugly ginger, and rubbed glitter and white makeup all over his skin. He sparkled worse than a Vegas stripper when the spotlights hit him right.

He grinned and threw his arms wide. "Irresistible, baby."

Jane shielded her eyes from all the glitter and rhinestones covering every exposed inch of him, and turned to Natasha. "What's Stark supposed to be?"

"Some sort of vampire I think," Natasha said, pursing her lips in thought.

"Since when do vampires sparkle?"

"I don't know, but the ladies won't leave him alone."

"Why Sweet Pea? The other blond one was cuter," Stark snipped, clearly annoyed that they were picking on him.

Jane shrugged. "Snyder modeled all of those characters after video game ones, and Sweet Pea was the tank. I've been a nerd all my life and played a lot of games, and any time I could I tanked. Hence the Sweet Pea costume."

"Eh. The other one was still hotter. Besides, shouldn't you be blond?"

Jane rolled her eyes and snagged a bite of something small and colorful, and entirely unfulfilling from a stone-faced passing waiter. "I am not dying my hair. Or wearing a wig. Both options itch."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Darcy had borrowed Jane's van in order to meet with her date. She'd met Jackson Hicks when Jane had been in the hospital. He'd been the hunk in scrubs with irresistible eyes, and when he'd asked for her number after the whole thing with the pocket wormholes was over she'd practically given him her cell.

He had given her very precise directions but the building she'd parked in front of did not match the ritzy date he'd promised her. It was a restaurant alright, but it looked like it had been closed down in the 80's. All of the windows were dark and boarded up and there was graffiti and trash everywhere. Darcy grumbled to herself. Of course the good looking prick was too good to be true. Why couldn't she ever find a nice boy? She remembered hearing somewhere that a nice boy was like a rare albino aardvark near a mine field. It looked like Jackson Hicks had stepped on a social mine at a young age.

Well she wouldn't let him get the best of her. If she knew anything about immature boys, he was lurking in there trying to scare her, and boy was she going to taser his ass when she found him.

Darcy grabbed her purse and her trusty taser and headed to hunt down her creepy date and give him a piece of her mind.

The door to the restaurant was open, and when she went inside a figure wrapped in a heavy duty trash bag sealed with duct tape calmly slashed all four of the van's tires. The van slumped with a sigh of escaping air and the figure moved silently into the restaurant after her, serrated hunting knife glinting in the moonlight.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

Stark's voice boomed out across the crowd, which shrieked and screamed and cheered as one. He hopped up onto the massive stage and the wide screen behind him showed digital pumpkins exploding into confetti while real spark cannons and confetti cannons fired off beside him. The crowd clapped and Stark gave a sharp little bow, grinning, ever the enthusiastic showman. The screen behind him cut to a closeup of his face.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, WELCOME TO THE 2011 STARK EXPO," Stark bellowed, microphone carrying his voice out across the crowd, "We are here to better YOU! This little gathering has a few things for you, some of which, I have humbly asked my butler Jarvis to model."

Jane giggled. Poor Jarvis.

The spotlight pointed off to stage left and Jane had to admit she was surprised when a thin, tall man with short sandy blond hair who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties walked almost nervously out on stage to stand next to Stark. He blinked when the bright lights hit him and gave the crowd a nervous little wave and a slight smile. Jane didn't know if it was one of Stark's bad jokes, but he'd put his butler into a black Priest costume with a smudge of dark paint in the shape of a cross on his forehead. Stark flung and arm around Jarvis's shoulders and grinned.

"I give you the new medical breakthrough Plasti-Skin! It is designed to bond to its host, and it's better than a skin graft folks because no human host will reject a Stark product!" Stark said, poking at Jarvis's cheek.

Jarvis pinched him back much to the delight of the laughing crowd before offering them a short bow and walking back off stage.

Jane handed Natasha the bottle and the Black Widow took a deep swig of it. Stark had resumed hawking the Stark Company wares, all in the name of bettering humanity. The costumed crowd was still watching Stark, enthralled, and Jane took a moment to survey them. Most of the people there had a lot of money to be able to afford an Expo ticket, so most of the costumes were very elaborate. There was a Cleopatra strutting around with what looked like all of Fort Knox glued to her voluptuous body, and a Kerrigan from Star Craft was haunting the buffet tables and using her multitude of arms to snag hors d'oeurves. Director Fury was glowering off in a corner at the festivities in Tyler Durden's trademark red leather jacket and floral button up shirt.

"Wow, does he go all out every year?"

Jane and Natasha turned. A scruffy familiar young man in a surprisingly accurate Spider Man costume stood behind them, with a heavy black photographer's camera and a Spider Man mask tucked into his belt. Jane wracked her brain, trying to figure where she'd seen him before.

"You're Peter Parker," Natasha supplied for her, "That Bugle photographer who's been asking about the Skinwalker."

"One and the same," he said smiling, "But I'm here to cover the Expo tonight. Unless you know something about the Skinwalker?"

Jane sighed. "Hardly."

He grinned and shoved his glasses up his nose. "Didn't think so. Never hurts to try though."

"Yep. Too true. Good costume by the way."

"Thanks."

"Ugh, what a nightmare," a clipped British voice said behind them, "When Stark said he was going to 'unveil me', I thought for sure at the very least it would be some wretched costume or a dirty joke. This was worse."

Jarvis joined their little group and Jane sympathetically offered him the bottle. He took a swig and shook his head. "I can't even taste it yet," he said mournfully.

Natasha laughed at him. "Well, you're on your own kids. I can see our _Fight Club_ King waving me over. Better go see what he wants before he decides to start a scrap pit on the dance floor."

"Hey," Parker said, "First rule of Fight Club is that you do not talk about Fight Club."

Jane snorted.

Natasha left for Fury's corner and Jane did not envy her. Nick Fury was bound to be even more annoyed and cranky than he usually was due to the crowd and the lights and the noise. He didn't seem like a man who would deliberately enjoy any sort of Stark party.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Darcy whirled as something crunched behind her and her heart sank into her stomach when she saw the trash bag clad figure standing behind her. Her brain processed the knife and the steel eyed glint in Jackson's eyes in the space of two seconds and realized his intent. Not only was he a skeeze, but apparently he was also a would-be murderer. With practiced ease she drew her taser from her purse and got him right in the neck.

He shrieked and dropped like a stone shaking with the force of the charge, but once the electrical charge stopped he was after her again, lurching to his feet like a ghoul.

Darcy didn't wait for him to get her, she ran pushing speed dial on her phone as she scrambled away looking for a place to hide. The phone dialed and she cursed when she saw Jane's number on the tiny screen. No offense to her boss, but she'd meant to dial 911 and forgotten that she'd changed the speed dial menu. She fumbled for the phone's keyboard, fingers slipping on the smooth plastic in her panic while she strained to hear signs of her attacker's pursuit. Darcy let out a quiet cry of dismay when her panicked grasp dropped the cell and the little phone skittered away under the counter where she couldn't reach it.

"Found you," Jackson said, voice soft.

His voice was inches from her ear.

Darcy looked up and didn't hesitate and drove her fist straight into his grinning face, wishing she'd paid more attention when Jane had been training. Jackson reeled back, blood arching from his broken nose. Darcy turned to run again and his fingers dug into the back of her leg, tripping her. She screamed as she fell onto the dirty floor, clawing at the ground as he drug her backwards.

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><p>.x.<p>

Jane's phone rang.

She saw Darcy's number on the screen and sighed, annoyed, hoping that her assistant hadn't butt called her when she was in the middle of sexy time. Again. Ew, ew ew ew. Jane's finger hoovered over the 'ignore' button, not wanting to listen in on the stuff going on if Darcy had accidentally dialed her like she did nine times out of ten. Listening in on her assistant's love life was _not_ on Jane's list of to do items. Then she sighed and pushed 'accept'. Might as well see what she wanted; it could be something important. Jane shouldered the phone as she balanced the champagne bottle and a plate of food, struggling to hear through all of the noise of the party.

She could hear muffled voices and grumbled to herself when she realized that Darcy had butt dialed her. _Again_. Jane almost hung up, but then she heard Darcy scream: high pitched and terrified. A man's voice, guttural and angry, could be heard snarling in the background. Jane paled. Something was wrong.

Parker had been watching her face change from annoyed and exasperated to terrified.

"Is everything okay?" he asked quietly.

Jane offered him a trembling smile while she looked worriedly around for Natasha, who was no where to be found. "N-no, I'm fine. Everything's okay."

Jane bent close to Jarvis to whisper as quietly as she could. "Can you trace this?"

His hearing appeared to be much better than hers and he could hear the phone's tiny speakers perfectly. His brow furrowed. "Yes."

"Good. Come with me, I'm stealing Stark's Bugatti and we're going to rescue Darcy."

Natasha's motorcycle would have been less conspicuous choice than Stark's two million dollar sports car, but Jane had no idea how to ride one and she doubted Jarvis did either. Jarvis would be able to get the car from the valets. She decided to chalk motorcycles up on her list of things to learn. Jarvis spared one glance back at Stark still on stage before he followed Jane out of the ballroom at a dead run.

A moment later, Peter Parker followed them, pausing only to hide his camera behind a dumpster and to pull his mask over his head.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

It was taking everything she had in order to stay ahead from him. Several times he'd almost caught her. Darcy was in the kitchen. She'd had to contort to fit herself inside the hollowed out dishwasher, but it was a better hiding choice than the closet or the walk in freezer. Besides, it was remotely cleaner in the dishwasher. The freezer had smelled like poison death from an animal that had crawled in there to die. She held her breath. He had walked over the place four or five times often pausing near her hiding place, but ultimately moving on each time. She could hear him calling her name softly in his creepy voice.

Psh. Like she'd come out. Sure, right Mr. Crazy Murderer man, walking out there seems like a genius plan.

She could hear him pacing into the kitchen again calling softly for her to come out. Darcy froze and waited for him to pass and hoped he wouldn't hear her breathing. He paused outside her dishwasher, listening, and she could see the sides of his feet from the thin crack in the door. It was getting harder and harder for her to be quiet. There was a broken piece of plastic poking her in the back and it hurt like the dickens. For a moment it was quiet, safe for the almost inaudible crunch of his weight shifting on the dirty floor and her quiet frightened breathing. Then her face was flooded with blinding light as he yanked the door down and yanked her out screaming by her hair.

He struck Darcy across the face and she recoiled from the blow yet was unable to get away as he still had a death grip on her hair.

"That's for my nose, bitch," he snarled.

Darcy snarled right back. She reached into the remains of the dishwasher and yanked out the broken piece of plastic in a long shard.

"What are you doing," he yelled, "You tryin' to escape, huh?"

Darcy concealed the plastic against her thigh and had no trouble faking tears. When he drug her up she rammed the long dirty plastic shard into the closest body part she could reach. Over three inches of her makeshift shiv sank into his skin just inside his collarbone. He flung her away from him with a loud cry, trying to get the thing out of his chest as blood welled out around the plastic, and she careened into the wall. Then he realized his mistake and he made a snatch for her but Darcy was already off and running, trying to get away.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

When Stark had taken her out for her birthday, he hadn't driven slow but he'd also stayed within the realms of reason. Jane had the gas petal glued to the floor and the massive 16 cylinder engine was moving the car at breakneck speeds back across the desert to Puente Antiguo. The dim night scenery was rushing past in a dark indeterminable blur. She paused only to change direction due to Jarvis's quiet and calm instructions. Jane finally glanced over at him and was a little surprised to see that he was completely unconcerned with how many laws she was breaking.

"Aren't you scared?" she asked, zipping around a little Honda Civic clicking along at a measly 65 miles per hour, "Because I'm a little nervous."

Jarvis looked up from where he'd carefully following something on the Bugatti's built in computer. "I'm not alive, Ms. Foster. If you crash and die Stark will merely upload me into something else. My files are backed up elsewhere. I am not afraid."

"Well," Jane swallowed, "At least I know where I stand."

Jarvis smiled lightly then frowned. "There," he said, pointing at a dilapidated restaurant called Skinny Minnie's, "The phone signal is in that building."

Jane screeched to a halt in a spray of gravel and spilled out of the car. She jiggled the restaurant's door handle and shrieked in frustrated rage to discover that it was locked.

"Out of the way," Jarvis ordered.

He drew back a fist and hit the rusty handle, hand driving a hole straight through the door with the handle falling with a clang on the other side. He pulled his hand out and the Plasti-Skin had peeled away from the alloy of his hand, revealing the shiny metal underneath. Jane pushed past him and kicked the door down, the little bit of rusted deadbolt still left in the door giving way under her booted foot. The door crashed in and Jane's brain took a second to process the scene playing out in front of her: Darcy was crouched, bleeding in several places with dress torn and filthy, holding a chair out in front of her WWE style while a man in a trash bag stood in front of her holding a bloody hunting knife bigger than Jane's hand.

Jane wasted no time.

She un-clipped Sweet Pea's harness as it would only slow her down. It dropped to the floor with a clunk and she stepped over it to engage Darcy's attacker. Jane was glad that she was wearing reinforced leather gloves with steel plates on the knuckles; it would help improve her chances. She briefly registered Jarvis going to go help Darcy, and then her brain settled into the combat mode that Natasha had so often tried to instill in her. Jane ducked under his first wild swing, knife arching in a pale gleam above her head, and she hammered a hard punch into his kidney. She danced away nimbly before he could get a grip on her.

They settled into the familiar pattern Jane recognized from the training mats. The only difference was that Natasha had never tried to kill her. This was different, this was real, but the dance was still the same. She was new to the whole fighting for one's life thing, but she was faster than he was and she'd had more training. He was wild and angry, swearing and losing control. He was obviously unused to his victims having combat training and knowledge of combative situations.

She bided her time, waiting for an opening, staying just out of the reach of his blade.

He made another wild thrust at her with the knife. Jane jerked her head sharply to one side and the serrated edge slid past her face with a soft swishing noise, just missing her hood. She grabbed his wrist as it went past her in an iron grip. With one had on his wrist and the other on the back of his neck, she helped his face down with a wet sounding crunch into her raised leather clad knee.

Jackson Hicks dropped like a stone, screaming and clutching his face, blood gushing from his fingers.

Jane didn't take any chances but stomped her heavy booted foot onto the back of his neck and she heard another crunch. His body went still and Jane stood there in the sudden quiet, chest heaving, waiting to see if he'd get up again. Jarvis, supporting Darcy, came and surveyed the body.

"He's dead," he said simply, not bothering to even check the body.

Jane felt dead herself. She'd never killed anyone before. The worst she'd ever done was run over the neighbor's annoying poodle in college, and that had been a complete accident.

She swallowed and Darcy laid a scuffed up hand that Jarvis had clumsily bandaged on her shoulder

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Spider Man crouched on the top of a light pole outside the restaurant, watching Dr. Foster and Stark's robot butler take out a would be murderer.

He'd followed originally to see what he could do to help but after watching a moment figured that they had it all under control. When he was younger he would have rushed in blindly to save the innocent. But the people here were not innocent, and with the war coming the Avengers would need all they could get. This experience would baptize Dr. Foster into a soldier that the Avengers could use.

Spider Man cocked his head, listening. His excellent hearing picked up sirens in the distance and he felt that it was high time he disappeared into the night. The Avengers had been after him for a while, but he preferred to work alone. While the S.H.E.I.L.D. operatives certainly had man power and superior equipment, there was so much more _drama._ He got more work done by himself.

He sprang off the light pole and was gone before the first Avengers vehicle screeched into the parking lot. If he would have stayed, he would have been a little shocked to see Jessica Rabbit pop out of the first black suburban toting a massive military issue black M24 sniper rifle followed by an irritated Tyler Durden with an eye patch.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Natasha found Jane sitting outside the restaurant, hood back and hands clasped together. The desert wind toyed with her brown hair and she looked oddly serene considering the events that had gone down that night. Natasha sat next to her and took off her red heels, massaging her feet with a groan.

"You okay?" she asked finally.

"I killed a man tonight," Jane said finally.

"Yep, that you did."

"Does it get easier?"

"Yes. But trust me, you don't want it to. Hold on to that feeling, Dr. Foster," Natasha said quietly.

Jane nodded, not really wanting to speak.

"Besides," Natasha said, "Darcy would have died tonight had you not acted. You lost a little part of yourself, but you saved a life. Is that not worth it?"

Jane smiled slightly and nodded. They were quiet a moment, watching the rising sun slowly pinking the flat desert horizon.

"How did you find us?" Jane asked finally.

Natasha laughed. "We had a call over the police scanner that a girl in steampunk bondage gear and a priest were kicking the shit out of a wanted multiple murderer at a broken down restaurant called Skinny Minnie's."

Jane shook her head ruefully. That one would be going down in the record books somewhere.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	22. Chapter 22 Wormholes Again and Dancing

**Author's Note:**_ I wrote the fight scene between Jane and Murderer guy listening to '_This is Gonna Hurt_' by _Sixx AM_. __Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me story wise, I know a lot of you want me to get the Jane/Thor stuff moving!_

_Just had the most ROTTEN day. The professor from hell lost my midterm and accused me of not showing up to take it. I got chewed out in front of my lecture class because the devil woman doesn't know the meaning of 'quiet issue solving'. If I can't find my graded midterm, I don't know what I'll do. Ugh. I am going to post this and then eat ice cream and watch Community until my brains melt._

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing_

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**Chapter 22: **Wormholes Again and Ballroom Dancing

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Darcy sat on the roof of Jane's lab back in Puente Antiguo, lying upside down on her boss's favorite lawn chair. She wished she had a dirty martini, or maybe even a long island ice tea. This sucked major rotten-under-the-seat-dirty gumballs. Why couldn't she find a nice boy? The Friday before last her blind date had turned out to be a thirty year old WOW player who still lived with his mother. Tonight her date had been a serial killer.

Nice. What was next? Rush Limbaugh with a loudspeaker? At the very least she was going to start running her date's names through the Avenger's database to see if they would murder her before dinner.

Darcy sniffed and then scrubbed her hand across her eyes. She wanted to cry.

She couldn't even wipe her damn nose without jostling one the scrapes and cuts that that asshole had given her. Big fat tears leaked out and spattered on the once expensive silk dress that Natasha had loaned her. Darcy had nicked named it the Bond girl dress and had coveted it from the moment she'd spied it in Natasha's closet. She'd been so thrilled when Natasha had let her borrow it for tonight. The sleek black silk had fit her like a glove. She'd felt pretty.

Now she just felt like an idiot. A lucky idiot.

Darcy knew she was being silly, that she didn't need a boy to make her life happy, but it would have been nice to have someone to hold her hand. Someone to make her tea when she felt icky, someone to hold her hair back from her neck when she was sick, to rub her shoulders when she'd had a long day helping Jane in the lab. Someone to _talk_ to for cryin' out loud. It just wasn't fair.

She sniffed again and sat up, tucking her knees up to her chest and getting ready to have a spectacular cry where no one would see the pathetic girl who couldn't get a date who wasn't a serial killer or lived with his mom.

"Miss Darcy?"

Darcy's head jerked up and she wiped furiously at her eyes. Jarvis had poked his head out of the door and was looking at her. It was only Stark's now corporeal butler, but she'd be damned if she would let anyone see her blubber like a great big baby.

Jarvis was still wearing his Priest costume and he looked odd wearing it while toting a silver tray loaded down with a shiny carafe of coffee, cream, sugar, and some weird kind of hard British biscuit. Jarvis carefully set the tray next to her and began pouring coffee into the only cup. It was a pretty little thing and the large part of her that obsessed over cute tea things wondered where he'd gotten the little china cup with such detailed scroll work all over it.

"How do you take your coffee, Miss Darcy?" Jarvis asked.

"Cream and lots of sugar, please," Darcy said, trying to keep her voice level. She tended to hiccup when she cried. He obviously could see that she'd been sniffling but she was going to pretend that he hadn't.

He handed her her cup and she took a sip, and was surprised in spite of herself when she found it the best coffee she'd ever tasted.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Your welcome, Miss Darcy," he said, "May I offer you anything else?"

"Maybe get a towel over your arm, and a monocle."

Jarvis offered her a short little bow. "As you wish, Miss Darcy."

She started in surprise, then slumped. She'd almost forgotten he was Stark's robot butler. Of course he would take her stupid offhand comment seriously. He had to: he was a freaking robot butler that followed orders for a living.

Darcy sat there quietly, trying to ignore Jarvis's solid presence at her back. The morning was just beginning to lighten, and while the desert air was still chilly the morning sun was warming her cold skin with its soft golden tendrils. The coffee cup was a hot solid weight in her cold hands and she huddled around it, trying to absorb as much heat as she could. She knew that if she turned she would see Jarvis standing erect, spine in that professionally ramrod straight stance, left hand hanging at his side while his right balanced the tea tray, waiting for her empty cup. She wanted to smack herself. Just because he was being nice to her she was getting ideas. He was a_ robot_. And she was an emotionally desperate wreck who had just avoided being murdered. She needed to get a grip on herself.

"I never thanked you properly for saving me," she said finally, breaking the silence.

Jarvis had bandaged her wounds and stopped the bleeding on her more serious injuries while Jane had beat the shit out of Jackson Hicks. The Avengers paramedics had told her after the incident was over that if she had not been taken care of, she would have bled out before help could arrive.

Jarvis glanced down at her, "Your welcome."

It was quiet a moment, then in a fit of frustration Darcy yanked off her sleek black pumps and lobbed them one after the other off the roof. They hit Jane's van with a satisfying thunk, setting off the car alarm. Jarvis tapped his temple and the noise stopped with a little squeal.

"I have been cooped up in that lab for AGES," Darcy snarled, "That-that butthead Jackson promised me dinner! And dancing! I was going to have fun! How dare he try to murder me and _ruin_ my evening!"

"It was very rude of him."

She slumped back down on the lawn chair, still seething.

"I'm not pretty," Darcy muttered, unable to stop feeling sorry for herself, "That's the only explanation. If I was my date wouldn't have tried to murder me."

"On the contrary," Jarvis said lightly, "He tried to kill you because you were pretty. Besides, Miss Darcy, that is a very unhealthy self image to employ. I suggest you change it."

"Does that line work when you tell Stark what to do?"

"No."

"Well then, I'm not listening either."

Jarvis shifted awkwardly, "Miss Darcy, if I may..."

She looked up at him balefully, still annoyed. "What?"

"For the Expo I downloaded some dances. It won't exactly be the evening you were hoping for, but I am willing to offer my services."

Darcy stared at him, rather taken aback. On one hand it would be nice to actually dance with someone for the first time in a long time. On the other hand, she really was an emotional train wreck right now that could not afford to be getting ideas about Stark's oddly cute sentient software with clear blue eyes.

Jarvis bowed and offered her his arm.

Screw it.

Darcy curtsied low, executing a perfect one even though she was scratched up and her dress was torn and dirty. She swallowed nervously, wondering why she had not been jittery with Jackson but with Jarvis her knees were positively knocking together. She took his arm and he escorted her to the open area of the roof not covered in vents and lawn furniture. His right hand felt oddly warm on her waist and she nervously rested her left hand on his shoulder. She stopped suddenly.

"Wait!" she yelped, jamming a hand into her cleavage.

He watched her, a little perplexed.

Darcy yanked out her cell phone and scrolled hurriedly through her tunes and then selected '_Your Song_' from Moulin Rouge. Damn straight it was her song, and Ewan Mcgregor's shmexy voice always made her knees weak. The first quiet strains of music crackled through the phone's tinny speakers and Darcy scuttled back her impromptu dance partner.

"Okay," she said, sliding back into his arms, "Let's do this."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Coulson buckled his black bullet proof vest on and took a deep breath of the cool Arizona night air. There was no emblem emblazoned on the vest to identify him or his team, or to signify that he was group leader, but the way the five men and women decked out in similar combat gear were grouped around him left no question. Their grim and pale faces watched him as their hands mechanically went through the motions of checking their fully automatic military issue M16 assault rifles. Coulson double checked the extra magazines strapped to his belt. It would not be good to run out of bullets where they were going.

Coulson looked at each one of them, memorizing their already familiar faces. Each one of them knew that it was a good possibility that they might not make it back but they were prepared for whatever end they were going to. It needed to be done. There were no doubts in any of their faces. They were all killers, this was what they were good at.

Hawkeye stepped up next to him, nocking an arrow to his compound bow. Hawkeye nodded sharply to him, signifying that they were ready.

Coulson turned and faced the cloud that was so dark purple it was almost black behind him. The cloud stretched almost the length of a school bus and rose over six fit above the hard packed dirt of the desert floor. Subtle flashes of light flickered in the cloud's depths like sinister ribbons. Coulson's finger tightened over his assault rifle's trigger guard, ready to slip over the trigger itself at a moment's notice.

Pocket universes had been popping up over the state of Arizona for some time now since the incident involving Bright Morning Medical Hospital and Dr. Foster several months ago. The pocket universes started out small, staying open for a while and eventually just closing by themselves. It had gotten worse though and fast. People started disappearing into them. And unlike the pocket universe Stark and Rhodes had closed at the hospital, the rips in space time actually seemed to go somewhere. Coulson wasn't exactly sure where, but he knew for sure it was a crucial place to the Loki mystery.

Whatever the Trickster was up to had something to do with where the pocket universes led, which was always to the same place.

It was a strange world of mist and fog. The terrain was always eerily barren: gray rocky ground, spindly grey trees shrouding the sky, and lots and _lots_ of fog. Sometimes there was snow, but not always. It was bitterly cold in that weird place. Fury had a theory that it might be Jotunheim, that Loki might have reached out to the Frost Giants. Coulson wasn't so sure.

He'd read Foster's account of Thor, and he had interrogated the man masquerading as Donald Blake himself. Thor had been very forthcoming in information, especially as he'd initially considered the humans of Midgard to be inferior and below him. They hadn't been a threat, and so he hadn't seen a problem in giving them information. Coulson had paid close attention to him and the place the pocket universes led to did not feel like Thor's account of Jotunheim. It felt -different, and for one, they never encountered any of the Frost Giants. They encountered other...things.

Weird shit happened deep in the pocket universes and Coulson was always surprised each time he made it out alive.

"Ready when you are, Sir," Hawkeye said, jolting him back to reality.

Coulson flicked the safety off and lead his team into the dark shimmering cloud. His teamed fanned out behind him: Valdal and Nickols flanking Jacobson and Kessler who carried a heavy black case containing Stark's wormhole disrupter device.

He took a deep breath and plunged into the depths of the cloud.

Coulson always hated the first step into the rifts. The tears in space time always felt like someone was taking a wire whisk to his skin. A scream caught in his throat. He was being flayed alive, the rift was peeling the flesh off of his bones. Then he was through, panting in the heavy wet fog on the other side. His crew materialized out of the cloud behind him. Hawkeye looked unconcerned but Valdal's face was white and Kessler looked like he was going to barf. They were untouched but only the sweat standing out on their pale faces belied the pain of crossing over.

Coulson rolled his shoulders feeling the knot of tension that persisted between his shoulder blades. Since the Hospital incident they'd had to make crossings such as this over thirty times now and he never got used to the feeling. He supposed no one could.

They spread out in an even formation, boots making little noise on the rocky ground. Their eyes were peeled for movement and though Coulson could practically feel the tension in the group they were all well trained. They knew what they were doing. Hawkeye had an arrow pulled back to his ear ready to let fly and he crept forward, scouting ahead.

They didn't have to go far and Coulson was grateful when the case let out a soft beep, sensing an acceptable part of the pocket to detonate. The farther they went into the pockets the less their chances were of coming out alive.

Jacobson and Kessler set the case down carefully on the nearest even surface, which happened to be in a clearing about 15 feet in diameter. Valdal and Hawkeye stood over the case covering Jacobson and Kessler while they set the detonation codes. The device needed roughly a minute and a half to arm and then they'd be good to go.

"Sir." Valdal's warning was quiet but tense.

Immediately Coulson's head flicked up, muzzle following his line of sight. Just inside the treeline, half shrouded by the fog, stood a man.

"Shit," Coulson muttered. "Not again."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	23. Chapter 23 Zombies and Asgard

**Author's Note:** _Only one word: SKYRIM - \(^_^)/_

_Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me and have a happy Thanksgiving! By the way, I normally spend a few days proofing a chapter and I didn't this time. Sorry for the bad writing and the mistakes._

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing, not Marvel, not Exploding locust arrows from Gears of War (mmm, exploding arrows), or any of the nine worlds in Norse mythology._

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**Chapter 23:** Zombies and Asgard

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The knot of tension between his shoulders got a little bit tighter though outwardly his face was a serene sea of calm. Coulson stepped in front of the case shielding his men. Jacobson and Kessler, who after an initial glance and the familiar figure in the fog, kept working. Hawkeye stood next to him, arrow pointing at the ground but the bow string was pulled taught and ready to go. Valdal stood opposite them, covering their backs with her M16.

The man had not moved, but the sluggish fog had eventually moved enough to reveal the man's face.

"Sergeant Kandis," Coulson said, identifying him. He'd suspected but now he was sure.

Only the fog moved in the quiet following this revelation and it made no sound at all. Jaime Kandis had died four crossings ago and they had had to leave his body behind. He had been dead for a while; Fury had delivered the news personally to his young wife, yet here he was standing a few yards away from them. Coulson swallowed. This confirmed his misgivings about the pocket universes: they definitely did not lead to Jotunheim, and the things that they encountered here were had once been living, but were dead. He'd had his suspicions for some time now, but Sergeant Kandis's moving body was irrefutable proof.

Hawkeye cleared his throat softly and Coulson glanced at the box. The charge was still arming and whatever happened in the next few minutes they had to hold the spot whatever the cost. The crossing went both ways: they could get through the rift and so could the dead inhabitants of the weird foggy world. The dead could under no circumstances be allowed through to Earth.

Kandis had not moved, his glassy and blank eyes fixed in a frozen expression on his oddly gray face that wasn't focused in a particular direction. He hadn't attacked which was an oddity in itself, as every encounter they'd had with the denizens of the fog world had ended in bloodshed. Maybe he could be reasoned with. Coulson stepped forward, hands outstretched in a placating gesture, and Kandis's face snapped around to face him like a dog scenting a pheasant.

"Hey Jamie," he said, pitching his voice as soft as possible to still be heard, "It's good to see you again. Come down and we can talk. Your wife Marie misses you."

Silence followed this and for a split second Coulson thought that something of Kandis might still be in there.

Nope. Kandis threw back his head and screamed.

It was a high pitched bone jarring shriek, higher and longer than any man was capable of; more like a symphony of forks across metal pans than a noise that would come from a person. Kandis's mouth opened wider and wider; his teeth had been sharpened into stubby points. The sound went on and on and took a long time to fade away. By the time it finished echoing off of the skinny trees more human shapes had materialized out of the fog. There must have been hundreds of them.

"Shit," Jacobson muttered, summing up what they were all thinking.

Coulson's breath clouded in front of his face in little wisps that rapidly dissipated in the chilly air.

It was an oddly surreal moment as the barrel of his M16 swung up as the hoard plunged out of the trees and descended on the little group. Coulson dropped to one knee so he wouldn't be in Hawkeye's line of fire, finger squeezing the trigger in short bursts allowing three rapid fire shots instead of a long stream of bullets. Coulson actually preferred the semiautomatic to the fully automatic. It made killing people more precise.

Hawkeye stood behind him, his hands a blur of motion from his quiver to the cord of his compound bow.

The bow made a soft wooshing noise with each release that was barely heard over the deafening sounds of the gunshots. When the bolts struck the attackers, however, the tips of the arrows which contained an explosive round blew the targets to bits with a roar of noise and fire. Coulson knew they were all pros but the way his team was handling the onslaught of freaking _dead people_ was nothing short of amazing. Hawkeye's exploding arrows were blowing huge holes in the enemy's ranks while Valdal and Coulson continued to pick off the stragglers. Through it all Jacobson and Kessler continued to coax the device along as though a hoard of dead people weren't ready to suck their brains out like a bunch of human mosquitoes.

The countdown clock hit zero, fully armed and ready to go. The device clicked open with a mechanical _thunk_ and thick coils of blue energy sparked around it.

"FALL BACK!" Coulson bellowed, taking his own advice and running, firing as he went. They had about five seconds to get out before the thing blew.

Jacobson and Kessler popped up like combat clad ninjas, snatching up their M16's and making for the rift while cutting a hole through the hoard. Valdal and Coulson followed with Hawkeye bringing up the rear. Coulson's lungs burned. He could do a six minute mile no problem but there was a difference to sprinting along on an indoor track while a trainer timed you, rather than be chased by a bunch of glorified mystic Norse mythology zombies who might be hungry for brains.

The rift flickered like a purple slash in the gray mist in front of them.

None of them hesitated or thought of the pain of crossing; they simply threw themselves through with the dead right at their heels. A split second later the device blew apart, sending out a shockwave of energy that crashed into the rift which disappeared in a violent dispersal of energy, liquefying the dead monsters that were near by.

Coulson and his team lay in exhausted piles on the desert floor. The beautiful, quiet, non monster inhabited desert floor that was most certainly on his favorite blue and green planet.

They'd survived. Again. Not a bad haul, all things considered.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Fury glared at the little cream colored envelope lying innocuously on his desk. The letter was made of heavy rich paper with only his name emblazoned on the back. It sat all alone on the desk surrounded by the wide expanse of the wood surface like a white bird on a mahogany sea. It had been hand delivered by two of X's agents, a man and a woman who sat across from him in two fold out chairs.

They certainly weren't what Fury would have pegged for deadly killers. The man looked like a wookie that had fallen into a vat of blue paint and was wearing pretty much nothing but reading spectacles. The woman sitting next to him was a tall skinny chick who had purple hair and a crimson slash through her left eye. Fury couldn't decide whether it was a scar, or a tattoo. He was betting on tattoo. When she moved, the black trench coat she wore shifted slightly and revealed the blue body suite underneath. The skintight body armor ended in a sharp cut off at her upper thighs and the heavy boots she wore were thigh high. The all blue ensemble was only interrupted by the deep red sash she had tied around her waist.

Neither the blue guy or the woman had been searched when they had arrived as an act of good faith. The indigo colored hairball didn't have much in the way of clothes but Fury suspected that the woman's trench coat was stuffed with weapons.

He looked her over. Swords, probably. His intuition said swords.

Both the blue dude and the woman sat quietly in their chairs through his inspection, waiting for him to open their boss's letter. Fury didn't recognized either of them, but then again he wasn't surprised. He had files on all of X's main team players along with descriptions and MO's. Not these guys. Which, he suspected, was why X had sent them in the first place. They weren't pushovers and none of Fury's heavy hitters were on base.

Iron Man was off doing God knew what, Fury didn't know and he didn't care. He suspected the truth would gross him out if he knew. War Machine had a briefing that he was giving to the head of state, Natasha was helping Captain America with his acclimation therapy, and Banner was currently having a veiny green hissy fit in the Avenger's most secure and reinforced vault.

In short, if the two mutants sitting in front of him suddenly decided that they didn't want to be there there wasn't much he could do to stop them. Nick Fury was a badass, but there was only so much one man could do.

He sighed and picked up the envelope, slitting the seal with a hunting knife from the top drawer of his desk. He flicked open the letter.

_Fury,_

_Good to hear from you old friend! It is a shame we only correspond when the fate of the world is at hand. Should evil ever decide to take a holiday, there is a bottle of bourbon in my desk that needs breaking into that two old friends should share. I received your request, and Wolverine was able to appropriate Myron Mclain along with his supply of adamantium. Beast has reviewed your plans and agrees that the adamantium will be strong enough to support Dr. Foster's design. I've sent you two of my best agents to assist with the problem with Loki: Beast, whom I've previously mentioned, and Psylocke. I believe Psylocke can assist in Dr. Foster's learning to use the weapon Godslayer should you decide to go through with your plan. Good luck old friend, and I sincerely wish I could do more._

_God be with you,_

_Xavier_

Fury folded up the letter and tossed it into his desk. He supposed that unless the two mutants sitting in front of him had bizarre senses of humor, the hairball was Beast and the woman was Psylocke.

Fury leaned back in his chair, steepling his long brown fingers and regarding the people across from him with his one good eye. "So, you've been briefed?"

Beast smiled briefly, revealing chompers the size of ballpoint pens. "Yes. We're aware of the issue."

"We're on loan to the Avengers until Loki is either killed or imprisoned," Psylocke added.

"Good," Fury said, "No work for me then explaining anything about how we got in this mess. I'll bring you up to speed on where we're at in the operation and we'll go from there. Our specialists have been working on the device found in Europe and as of 13:45 this afternoon it finally started working. We're contacting Asgard and we will send an envoy of the best of the best to them. Hopefully we can convince them to clean up their mess."

Beast nodded in agreement. "They should accept responsibility for Loki's actions."

Fury rose from his desk and ushered them from the room. "Well then. Let's pay a call to another galaxy far, far away, shall we?"

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><p>.x.<p>

Sif watched Thor give pointers to some of the Asgard kids. She sat perched on the edge of a pool in Indun's garden, the white marble beneath her bottom was warmed by the sun and made her feel sleepy. The book in her hands was up in front of her face and for all intents and purposes she was engrossed in it. Her eyes kept straying, however, moving as if drawn by magnets to the man she was betrothed to.

Thor had stripped off his shirt in the hot sun and the sweat glistened on his shoulders and broad back. He corrected a kid's grip on his wooden training sword, and then guided him through some training moves. The boy attacked with vigor and Thor effortlessly blocked each hit all the while alternating shouting encouragement and poking fun. Sif felt sorry for the kid. Thor was a pro and unless the Thunder God let him win, the kid had no chance.

Unbidden, her heart clenched. Would Thor be like this with their children? Odin had decreed that they would be wed, and while Sif knew that while Thor had no feelings for her...it was only a matter of time. He had to fall for her, he _had_ to. His human woman could not stand beside him as Sif could. She was brilliant and kind, yes, but a woman of science. A woman of science could not stand beside him in battle. Sif was beautiful and a renown warrior. She just needed more time to make him see her for the woman she was. He was her betrothed. She would care for him. In time he would forget Jane Foster and come to care for her as well.

"M'lady?"

The quiet voice of a servant jerked her from her reverie. She looked up.

The servant crouched next to her and he looked more than a little worried. Sif laid a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"

"A call, M'lady."

She laughed. "What sort of call?"

"A message...from_ Midgard_, M'lady."

Sif's smile fell from her face like someone had tied weights to it. Midgard. Midgard meant Jane Foster, as well as Loki. Sif glanced at Thor again. He was grinning that wicked grin he was so well capable of as he fended off the attacks of four other kids who had joined the mock battle. She hadn't seen him smile like that in a long, long time and if he knew Jane had tried to contact him or he found Loki, Sif knew that smile would disappear. Jane would ruin everything. This had to be handled quietly, and _fast_.

Sif rose sharply, setting her book down. "Show me."

Thor raised his head at her tone and gave her a questioning look. She smiled and waved, showing him that it was nothing. He went back to sparring with the kids, then let out a shriek when they all threw aside their weapons and dog piled him.

"Shouldn't M'lord come as well?" the servant asked, looking after his future king who was buried under a punching and wrestling pile of shouting children.

"No," Sif said firmly, "We'll not trouble him with this. Take me to our message."

The servant led her through Asgard and down the rainbow bridge to Heimdall's way station. Asgard's guardian waited for them there along with a crackling white figure. When she got closer she saw that the figure was a projection of a man clad in a heavy dark coat. An eye patch covered his left eye and his arms were crossed as he waited.

"You're not Odin or Thor," the figure said, an air of disapproval in his deep voice.

Sif's upper lip curled. He dared judge her? "I am soon to be Queen of Asgard. Good enough, I trust?"

The figure bowed. "Forgive me Ma'am. I have an urgent problem involving one of your people and I need it presented in front of your court."

"Presented?"

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but I need to request an audience with your King. Forgive me but you are not Odin AllFather, and you are not Queen yet."

Did she just hear Heimdall snicker? Sif's eyes flew over to him and the Gatekeeper's face was as stone like as ever. She must have imagined it. She looked back at the projection's grainy image. Heimdall had witnessed this contact so there was no way she could sweep this under the rug and get rid of the human. Stilll, she still had control of the situation. All was not lost. She could still win Thor's heart, as well as his respect. She just had to keep Jane Foster out of it.

"You may have your audience with the All Father, of course, but on one condition," Sif said, trying to keep her voice under control. She was seething mad.

The figure cocked his head, waiting.

"No scientists," Sif said firmly, "We are a warrior race, and your petition will be better respected if it is presented by a fellow warrior. The All Father will expect nothing less. And I warn you sir to follow these guidelines. We hold the cards to your survival, it would be best to not disappoint. "

The figure regarded her for a long moment and she could not discern his expression. After a long uncomfortable moment he said, "As you wish."

The transmission blinked out.

Sif stared at the spot where the man's projection had stood. What had she done? As she left she could feel Heimdall's eyes boring into her back, no doubt wondering what the hell kind of stunt she had just pulled. Sif wondered herself. Love made her crazy.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Norway was beautiful this time of year and the site at Hafrstadr was no different. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and-

Nick Fury's fist smashed into a rock. "No scientists? How the hell are we supposed to present our plea?"

Beast cocked his head and considered a file in his huge blue hands. "I thought a man named 'Jarvis' was supposed to handle the ambassador position. He is not a scientist."

Fury still wanted to murder something. "It's the principle of the thing! That bitch can't tell me what do!"

Psylocke rolled her eyes as they boarded the jet back to the Avenger's base in Arizona. "Technically she can. According to our intel she _is_ set to marry the head cheese. She probably does whatever she wants."

"Not on my planet, she doesn't," Fury snarled.

"She isn't on your planet," Beast pointed out.

Fury ignored him. "I have to disregard her order on pure principle. I'm citing bullshit."

Coulson stepped out of the pilot's cabin. "Bullshit, Sir?"

Fury nodded. "Bullshit." Then he got a closer look at his assistant. Usually impeccably presented Coulson had a deep scratch on his forehead and there was a bandage on his hand with a red crescent mark seeping through that looked remarkably like a bite wound.

Fury glanced up at Coulson. "Rough night?"

"No Sir."

"...If you turn into a zombie I'm shooting you."

"Noted, Sir."

"Good. Get us out of here please."

Coulson trotted back to the pilot's cabin and Fury reclined back into his seat with a sigh. He found Beast and Psylocke were watching him, no doubt wondering what crackass crazy thing he would say next.

Fury sighed. "Yes, I made a deal with her, but I specifically agreed to not send a scientist." Fury raised his voice, bellowing at Coulson. "Get Jane into the Avengers basic training program when we land ASAP!"

_"yessir" _Coulson's voice crackled over the speakers_._

Nick Fury grinned a feral little smile. "We're going to shake the beehive a bit. The Asgard don't like it we'll claim ignorance to their rules. Psylocke you take on Jane's training where Natasha left off. It looks like she'll be getting a sword after all. We're not sending her into the belly of the beast without any armor. This will be _interesting_."

Beast groaned. "If I were in to high stakes drama this would be perfect-"

"-but not really," Psylocke finished.

Fury shrugged. "That spoiled broad started it. She wants drama? I will give her drama on a silver Jane Foster platter."

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	24. Chapter 24 Ninjas and Swords

**Author's Note:** _Next Chapter = The gang in Asgard. Work is speeding up because of the Christmas rush, and I'm super nervous because they made me a lead and I've never done this sort of thing before. Wish me luck. School is also speeding up, unfortunately, because the end of the semester is fast approaching. I have a 7 page paper on Evelina (horrible book) due next week, along with the Dragon Lady's final exam. You know what that woman wants as a final paper? She "don't know". Couldn't give the class a straight answer, just wants to know how we feel about a work of art, then chewed out peeps who asked specific questions about it cus the dame is completely nuts. I think something is wrong with her brain. Shudder. Anyway, that's enough of my ranting._

_Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me!_

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing._

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**Chapter 24:** Ninjas and Swords

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Jane collapsed on the training mats, every muscle in her body screaming in agony. Her chest heaved as she tried to get control of her ragged breathing. Her muscles felt like they'd been treated to a low electric shock: harmless in lasting damage, but extremely painful in a lingering and sickening sort of way. Her eyes struggled to focus on her skin. A light pink glow flickered around her pressure points, though it was fading fast. It looked like someone had dumped candy colored nuclear waste on her vitals. Jane groaned and tried to heave herself to her feet. She failed miserably.

When the last of the pink disappeared, a pair of sleek dark blue high heeled boots appeared in her field of vision. Jane squinted at them and for some reason the fact that they looked so expensive annoyed her. Maybe she'd been knocked around too much; her brain was starting to feel addled. A slim female hand with bubble gum pink nails popped into her face and Jane grasped it. Psylocke yanked her to her feet effortlessly and then crossed her arms and tapped her booted foot, annoyed.

"Know what went wrong, grasshopper?" Psylocke asked.

Jane nodded vigorously, eyes wide. "I didn't trust in the Force enough, Obi-Wan."

Psylocke rolled her eyes and raised her gaze to the ceiling in a 'why me' expression. "Smartass. You have promise, but you need more practice. A lot more practice. I could say something deep right now about how the answer is in your heart or some such bullshit, but we both know practice and effort and time is what is going to get you through this. Unfortunately, practice and the time with which to do it is something we do_ not_ have."

Jane nodded and rolled her shoulders, trying to shrug off the stiffness in her muscles. She took a firm grip on her training sword. It was a surprisingly heavy thing, made of lead and wood which would best absorb Psylocke's psychokinetic blasts and constructs. The purple haired mutant's main weapon was a psychokinetic katana created through sheer will, but she also was able to form small bolts of power and fire them at targets. Jane had been dodging these bolts ever since they'd started training together, and they_ hurt_.

Jane's sword came up and she sank into a crouch. "Again."

Psylocke nodded. "Very well."

Psylocke strode to the edge of the mat twelve feet away, heels echoing in the empty training room, and tapped her temple. A glowing pink corona in the faint shape of a butterfly appeared around her eyes, while her eyes themselves rolled back up into her head like a Vegas slot machine and glowed an eerie white. Every time she did this Jane had to resist the urge to shout _Christo_ and run for the salt and holy water.

Pink bolts of telekinetic power formed in front of Psylocke's face and sped towards Jane.

Jane wore gloves to keep her sweaty palms from sliding on the sword's handle and her hands tightened, leather gloves creaking. Sweat ran into her eyes and she blinked it out. The first bolt flew at her face and Jane didn't duck, but swung at it like it were an angry stinging pink baseball intent on breaking her face. The bolt disappeared in a shower of pink sparks but Jane didn't have time to be happy about it. More bolts flew at her, each one heading for a point on her body that would be a preferred target for a potential attacker.

Jane ducked and slashed, body a whirlwind as she twisted and dodged, following the steps and moves that Psylocke had been drilling into her since the mutant had arrived at the base. They had been doing this now for weeks, and with each session Jane missed fewer and fewer bolts. She was getting faster. Jane was small and quick, and Psylocke had been encouraging her to play off her speed and agility instead of going for power moves.

When the last bolt exploded as her blade struck it Jane dropped back into a crouch, expecting more. Instead of sending more at her, Psylocke clapped, a uncharacteristic smile gracing her usually fierce looking face.

"You're getting better," Psylocke said approvingly.

Jane straightened and leaned her sword up against the wall. She wanted nothing more than to hop into the bath with a glass of wine and a good book, but knew there wasn't time. She left for Asgard with Jarvis, Darcy, War Machine, Psylocke, and Beast within the hour. The thought sent excited chills through her. She would finally get to see Thor. After years and years of wishing and dreaming, with the only contact they were able to share through his drug induced dreams, she was finally going to see him again. She was so giddy that she thought she was going to explode.

Psylocke clapped her on the shoulder. "I've never really had a student before, and I wish I had more time to train you. The only advice I can give you is fight dirty, because you can't afford to lose. They will give you no quarter and I don't agree with the place Fury is putting you in. Sif specifically asked that you not be there."

Jane felt her stomach drop.

Sif had not wanted her there? But…She'd thought that the Asgardian woman was cool. She and the rest of Thor's buddies had been so friendly, and then when Thor had popped into her dreams he had thought that Jane's idea of him and Sif as more than friends had been silly. He had laughed about it. Jane wondered whether she had made a huge mistake. The thought of the dream of Thor on a beach mugged her, and she remembered that things were not so very hunky dory. Then she squared her shoulders. If she had made a mistake, than dammit Sif was going to confirm it straight to her face.

There was no way she was going to tuck tail and run, not after all the shit she'd been through.

"I don't know the circumstances of this whole thing, but I know the situation. You are going in blind to a place that is unlike anything you have ever seen or been to. You are going to be surrounded by people who are not obligated to keep you safe or protect you. There will be no help if you get into trouble. You avoid fighting at all costs. You play by their rules and you watch your ass. And if you do fight, you do not lose because they will not go easy on you. You hear?" Psylocke said.

Jane swallowed and nodded, wondering what she was getting herself into.

Psylocke shook her hand. "It's been fun. We will continue to spar when we get to Asgard if there is time, but you are as ready as I can make you. Come, the departure meeting starts in a few minutes."

Jane turned to follow her out the door and almost walked straight into Pepper. Pepper doubled over, gasping, obviously having run from wherever she was keeping Stark out of trouble.

"Wait!" Pepper gasped, and shoved a squashy package wrapped in crinkly gray tissue paper

There was a card tucked into the paper and Jane tugged it out, squinting to read the writing in the dim light.

-_Jane_

_Every Superhero needs a costume. Wait, scratch that, Stark says fashionable body armor, not 'costume.'._

_Though it's costumes, we both know it is. Ugh I am never writing a note with him again, this is ridiculous._

_Anyway, be safe and good luck! And Stark says wear it or he'll be mortally offended._

_-Pepper_

Jane carefully pulled the tissue paper apart. She couldn't believe that Pepper and Stark had got her something. Jane felt like going to Asgard was like going to battle. Sif would not make it easy for her, but with the friends she had Jane felt like she was invincible. Darcy, Stark, Pepper, Natasha, even Fury, they were all her friends. They all had her back and Jane couldn't ask for anything more.

The tissue paper parted to reveal her Halloween Sweet Pea costume that Pepper had got for her, along with the dress that Stark had commissioned for her out of Thor's cloak, and the boots that Darcy had given her for her birthday.

"It's going to sound a little cheesy," Pepper said sheepishly, "But you're made up of your friends. You have the skills Natasha gave you, the armor Stark and I gave you, and Darcy's boots as your hero persona. You're going to a place a long ways away, but you're not alone. Good luck, and we wish you the best!"

Jane swallowed, eyes burning like she was going to cry. She gave Pepper a quick hug. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"

"Meh. Don't thank me. Put it on," Pepper waved a hand.

Jane scuttled off to the bathroom where she kicked off the workout clothes she'd been wearing. The dress slid on like the touch of a dream forgotten. The deep blood red fabric whispered as it slid over her skin, and Jane hugged herself, smelling the heady scent of ozone and warm spring rain. Thor's scent had never seemed to leave it, no matter how many times Darcy had tossed it into the wash, and for that Jane was grateful. Next she pulled on the corset cloak. The material was darker than she remembered, and heavier. After lacing it up she rapped her stomach with her knuckles; the leather didn't give. Stark must have inserted something into the leather, Jane was willing to bet some kind of plating, maybe Kevlar. Who knew? Stark technology always seemed to be better than anyone else's. Jane pulled off her ratty sneakers and tugged on Darcy's boots. She wiggled her toes, enjoying the way the dark brown leather hugged her feet and the boot heels clicked in the echoing bathroom.

Jane spun for the mirror, not recognizing herself.

The woman looking back at her was thinner in the face from all of the drills Natasha and Psylocke had been putting her through, and the darkening bruise on her cheek from one of Psylocke's bolts made her look rather gritty. On top of the dark corset cloak with the bit of crimson hem from the dress peeping out, she looked like a freaking _badass_. Jane grinned. This was going to be awesome. She felt like a character from one of her video games. Maybe _Final Fantasy_ meets _Assassin's Creed_.

Jane emerged and did a quick twirl for Psylocke and Pepper. Pepper hugged her again. "You look great," she whispered.

Jane went pink.

"Great you look, but get we must," Psylocke said in her best Yoda impression, "Or our asses Fury will have."

It was a quick walk to Fury's office but to Jane it seemed like forever.

Asgard. It had seemed like a dream for so long, an impossible dream, but now here she was going to Fury's office and after that…she would see Thor. She swallowed, mouth dry, as Psylocke pushed open Fury's door.

They were all there. Jarvis stood by the window in a crisp gray suit that was probably worth more than Jane could make in several years. Darcy stood next to him holding a leather briefcase. She looked nervous, but also excited. Darcy gave Jane a enthusiastic but silent thumbs up when she noticed her boss's choice of attire. Jane did a double take. There was also a slight blush staining her assistant's cheeks and Jane made a mental note to ask Darcy who the lucky guy was.

War Machine hulked next to Fury's desk off in a corner where he wouldn't squash anything. Stuff tended to break whenever he or Iron Man moved. He looked like a metal demon. The thin slits of burning red on his mask was the only sign of life, but Jane knew he was paying close attention to the proceedings. Psylocke joined Beast, who was occupying Fury's high backed leather rolley chair and reading the paper. Beast had managed to squeeze himself into a suit, but his buttons looked like they could shoot off at any moment and brain someone.

Fury himself stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, and when Jane and Psylocke took their places he turned to face them all.

"I could give you a inspirational speech right now, but I'm going to lay it out. We need the Asgard to clean up this mess. People are dying. We have a war to win, and we can't do it alone. Get them here. That's an order."

They all nodded, solemn, and not saying anything. There were no words. Jane felt a weight settle on her shoulders. So much rode on the success of this mission, she only hoped that it would work.

"Another thing," Fury added, "We can communicate with you but essentially you are on your own. We cannot deploy forces to Asgard, they're needed here. Do your best and come home safe."

They all turned and filed out the door. They would take a jet to Hafrstadr and from there be shot across the universe to another galaxy via a contraption built thousands of years ago. Jane shivered. She couldn't help but envision all of the things that could go wrong.

"Jane." Fury's voice stopped her.

Jane turned. Fury strode to his desk and pulled out a long black case from underneath it.

"This is for you," he said.

Jane took the case from him and set it on the desk. It felt heavy in her hands and she had to keep herself from shaking it to see if it rattled. Nick Fury's presents didn't seem like the sort that anyone should shake. They might explode. It took her a moment to open the heavy steel buckles holding it closed. Finally Fury got frustrated and just opened it for her.

A sword lay in the case on black foam. Jane swallowed. Fury had made her Godslayer sword. He'd followed her original design: the blade was about three feet long, slim, and slightly leaf shaped. The sword's guard curved down over the leather bound grip in the shape of Thor's hammer. Embedded just above the hilt in the blade itself was a glowing tiny ark reactor.

"Why is it painted black?" Jane asked.

"It's a special coating designed to protect the metal from degrading," Fury said, "Besides, it's harder for people to see you stabbing them in the dark if the blade is black."

"Ah."

"Now, Miss Foster, you have a plane to catch. Good luck." Fury shook her hand, and Jane buckled the sword around her waist where it fit comfortably behind her at the small of her back. Then she left.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Loki sat cross legged on a hill, cradling a bottle of Jim Beam, and watching the silly Avengers' little crack army board a jet. They were going to the Bifrost site in Norway, no doubt to try to get the Asgard to do something about him. He wondered whether he should blow up the jet, then decided against it. Blowing it up would require effort, and he didn't feel like moving. And confetti. Lot's of confetti. And he had no confetti. Loki took a swig. There was a slight chance that he might be drunk.

He still wasn't pleased with the human idea of liquor but there wasn't anything he could really do about it. Besides. It got him sufficiently shit faced and that was all that counted at the moment.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Loki didn't bother turning around, merely tried to see if he could drain the bottle in one go by turning it upside down and not swallowing. He ended up choking with whiskey shooting out of his nose in a spray that threatened to singe the inside of his nose. Maybe human booze was more potent than he'd originally thought.

"That was elegant."

A girl plopped down next to him. Loki watched her for a moment, then went back to nursing his bottle. The girl was looked about ten and she was slim and fair haired. From the plain black dress she wore to her leather slippers she looked relatively normal. Normal, that is, until she turned her head. The left side of her body was rotting: gray skin stretched over sharp bone like wet paper over a rock. In some places her flesh had completely rotted away leaving nothing but a graying skeleton.

"We're not stopping them?" she asked, perplexed.

"Nope. It will be more entertaining to watch my 'Father' tell them no, and then watch Thor squirm when Odin says he can't save his hunny bunny. Entertainment gold. Besides, it's not part of the plan. And we have no confetti."

She rolled her eyes and chose not to comment on that. "The humans keep closing my portals to my realm."

"So open more. The more portals that are open, the more damage that is done. They can't close them all at once," Loki said.

The girl nodded obediently. "Yes, Father.

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	25. Chapter 25 Reunions and Koi

**Author's Note:** _So a lot of you wanted to see Jane's super hero costume, and I'll do my best. I started out as a Art Major but realized that I was nowhere good enough to make a career out of it. Qilin and I are working on starting a DeviantArt and we'll see where that goes. I don't have a tablet so none of the artwork will be properly colored, but we'll ink them and scan them and hopefully give them decent enough backgrounds with photoshop. So, please be kind when we put them up, even if they suck. And if any of yall's is better at colorin' stock photos than we are, feel free to have a go at them. Yep the little girly is Hel, Norse goddess of the underworld, btw. If you've ever read the Lenore comics (they're gross, but horrendously funny), that is where I got the inspiration for her. Well ladies and gents, here it is, I hope I deliver on the drama (^_-)_

_Anyway, sorry it took me so long to update. I had intended for my lovely break to be filled with productive writing and skiing, but all I did was play Skyrim and lurk on Reddit. I regret nothing. Did you all have a good Christmas? Hope the holidays rocked for you all!_

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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**Chapter 25**: Reunions and Koi Ponds

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Jane followed Psylocke up the ancient stone staircase, heart thudding like a hollow drum in her chest. Beast ambled along next to the blue clad ninja and was quietly arguing a point of mutant rights with her. Both seemed entirely unconcerned with what they all were about to do: launch across the universe in an ancient device to an unknown destination. Ahead of them Darcy and Jarvis walked side by side, Darcy's cheeks still decidedly pink as the two went over Jarvis's introductory speech. Jane could hear War Machine tromping up the steps beside her, the slight metallic creak of his armored body barely discernable over the cold whistle of the mountain wind.

The frigid gale that licked around them tossed her brown hair around her face, tangling it into long ropy strands. Jane brushed it back from her face, cursing that she'd been too busy to get it cut; it was usually kept in a manageable length, but with the craziness of the past few months she'd neglected to do it.

She kept taking deep breaths of the cold crisp mountain air. Cold rain that was more sleet than water pelted her pink tinged cheeks like lilliputian missiles.

It was almost autumn in Norway and Sweden, and Hafrstadr was located smack in the middle between the two countries.

The mountain they were climbing were dotted with brown and gold and red scrub flora that was stunted by the constant wind. Jane's boots crunched on the ancient stone and the wind lifted the leather tails of her cloak up, twisting and turning them in the gusts like ominous black death flags in her wake. She was insanely glad she'd worn her black spandex under-armour shorts underneath the cloak dress ensemble: even though the wind was annoying and kept trying to give War Machine a good look at her ass, at least her modesty was secure.

A structure gradually came into view as they climbed the stairs. Jane could see that the archeological team that had been allowed to continue to work on the structure had since cleaned off all of the debris that had covered it since its discovery. A sphere of burnished bronze-like metal rose sharply out of a stone dais with a gleaming triangular needle pointed straight up, as though it would skewer the sky if it could. A dark opening in the sphere yawned like a beast's maw. Jane's breath caught in her throat. Soon, she would be walking in there to places and monsters unknown. Her brain made some snide comments about virgin sacrifice and Jane promptly shut_ that_ line of thought down.

Fury stepped up and shook each one of their hands in turn. Jane had the distinct impression of a general saying goodbye to his troops before a final fruitless battle. He didn't say anything, and soon they filed one by one into the dark of the sphere. She looked back to see Fury standing in the circle of light of the opening before the door slid over, closing them into the solid darkness.

Jane didn't have time to reflect on how freaking dark it was before things started happening.

Light boiled around them. It seemed like the entirety of the universe was roiling around them in a violent tempest of stars and color. Jane was so enthralled by what she was seeing she almost didn't notice the pain. But it hurt though, dear god did it hurt. Energy flooded the little room and she gritted her teeth. No one else was screaming, so dammit she wouldn't either.

Light flooded down from the ceiling and Jane's final thought before she was disintegrated and blasted all the way to the other end of the universe was now she finally knew what it was like to be in the center of the event.

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><p>.x.<p>

She felt like she was coming back to life, or finally coming out of the woods after wandering after an eternity.

All she could think was, '_Holy shit_.' That and she wanted to barf.

There was gold everywhere, everything glittered like it was forged out of the sun. She had to force herself to walk normally and not stumble her first few steps on an alien world. The group moved forward towards the figure standing on a platform waiting for them. He was a giant of a man standing clad head to toe in gleaming armor and clutching a sword taller than Jane. He could have been carved in stone except for his eyes.

Jane swallowed when his eyes, like wheels of orange fire, speared her like a kid holding a bug under a magnifying glass. He knew exactly who she was and that she was not supposed to be there. For a second Jane thought he would call her out. He stared her down for a long moment and then a wide grin that was very nearly a smirk slid across his full mouth.

"Welcome, travelers."

His voice was deep and warm, and Jane couldn't really explain it but she liked him instantly. You could tell a lot about a person from the first meeting, and Jane had a feeling the big dude was the sort of person one could share a beer with on a Sunday afternoon, even if he was clutching a sword big enough to take down a wooly mammoth in one swing.

There was a clatter armored footsteps and Jane got a glimpse of Sif striding towards them in a flowing white gown with a platoon of soldiers in armor that threw more light around than an angel choir. Jane tucked her head and flipped her heavy leather hood over her face. If she kept her head lowered, only the lower half of her face would be visible and she seriously doubted if Sif could recognize her from her nose and mouth and chin alone.

Still, she stepped back into War Machine's enormous shadow just in case. They had to be accepted. If she got them thrown out of Asgard before they could meet with someone and see about help she would never be able to live with herself. Her hand rested on the pommel of Godslayer and she felt a tickle in the back of her mind that was the sword's presence. Fury had had the doctors give her an implant on her last medical checkup. She'd thought it had been something to do with injections against possible infections in Asgard, but she now suspected it was something to do with a telepathic connection with the sword so that it would create wormhole tears when she wanted it to. It was weird being able to think at her sword, and that it would do what she told it.

Sif stopped in front of them and Jarvis immediately stepped toward her, hand outstretched. "Lovely to make your acquaintance, Ms- ?"

"Sif, Thor's betrothed and future Queen of Asgard," she said smoothly, shaking his hand, "And who are your companions?"

Jane felt her insides freeze. Betrothed. Blech, she didn't want to even think about it.

Jarvis smiled, gesturing back at the little group, "Psylocke, one of the emissaries from the Xmen and Beast, her partner. The metal golem is War Machine, a representative of the US armed forces, and-"

When he got to Jane he faltered. He couldn't just say her name but he couldn't leave her out either. Jane saved him by stepping forward and offering a little bow, careful to keep her face low.

"Reaper," she said.

Psylocke turned around, arched a slender purple brow and skewered her with a subtle '_seriously_?' look. Jane shrugged. She'd just slammed out all six seasons of _Supernatural_ on DVD before they left, it was all she could think of on the fly. Psylocke rolled her eyes and Darcy's shoulders shook as though she were trying to keep from laughing. Jane sighed, exasperated. She traveled with friggan comedians, the lot of them. It was not her fault that they hadn't sat down and discussed proper super hero names.

"Well met," said Sif after looking over their dysfunctional group again, "If you'll all follow me please."

The ragtag band followed after their ethereal guide, and Jane wasn't surprised to see the soldiers flank them as they walked. She wouldn't trust armed strangers either, even if they were there to ask for help. Jane for her part ignored the soldiers and the statuesque Asgard woman leading them and instead concentrated on the things to be seen. Asgard was freaking huge, and there was technology being displayed that humans probably wouldn't be capable of for another thousand years.

Sif led them through a winding wide street paved with white stones surrounded on both sides by elegant buildings that sent their golden spires curling lazily into the pink and gold starry sky. There were people everywhere: elegant ladies in sweeping gauzy jewel colored dresses and men in bright armor. Kids were darting in an out of the crowds squealing and laughing; some were playing some form of game that involved a bright red leather ball, and some seemed to just be chasing each other for no apparent reason.

The road curled up and round the central hill of Asgard. A huge golden building perched on the hill's crest, its many cylindrical towers formed a triangular shape that seemed to sweep effortlessly towards the sky.

The group followed Sif and her soldiers through a high arching entryway into a central hallway. Compared to the cheerful chaos outside, it reminded Jane of the inside of a church. Everything was quiet and the few people dotting the vaulted echoing hallway seemed to be of a higher caliber. Their dress was more important, and Jane wasn't an anthropologist but she noticed the formal deference the soldiers surrounding them treated everyone they came across, further cementing her suspicion that the building they were in was the central place where Asgard made all of its decisions. She couldn't picture it as a castle, so her money was on palace.

Sif stopped in front of a heavy wooden door decorated by Yggdrasil and Nordic knots.

"This suite and its rooms are where you'll be staying. For now I ask that you not leave them. I have to confer with my lieges, and from then decide on a course of action," Sif said, assureing them into the room, "I hope you have a pleasant stay."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Thor massaged his temples and reread over the revised treaty for the Frost Giants he'd been working on. A headache was pounding merrily away inside his skull, reminding him most painfully that he hadn't slept in three days, and hadn't had a proper night's rest in weeks. The Frost Giants had quite naturally been furious with the Asgard when the peace party had arrived in their destroyed ice world. They hadn't known the circumstances, but they did know that the Asgard were responsible for single handedly obliterated much of the planet, making the entire world unstable.

Thor was a little surprised the Frost Giants hadn't attacked on sight. They'd wanted to, certainly, but then even the Frost Giants could see that their race couldn't survive without help. Jotunheim had grudgingly accepted Asgard's assistance; they'd had no choice.

Their list of demands was extensive and between hammering out the contract between the two realms, sorting out Asgard's political drama, dodging Sif and his Father, and worrying about Jane and his Terran friends, Thor was nearing the end of his rope.

He stretched, realizing with the crank and pop of his joints that he hadn't been out to the training facilities in ages and the soreness in his body was making him realize it. Thor got to his feet and pushed the contract across the table away from him. He needed to stop looking at the damn thing; his eyes were swimming and threatening to pop out of his head. He walked over to the window, glancing longingly at his bed as he walked past.

The four posted monstrosity was huge, and he knew from personal experience that the goose down mattress was insanely comfortable. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into the sheets and shut out the world for a few hours. Thor raked a hand through his shaggy blond hair. There was no way he could get into that bed. Sif's scent was in the sheets and her shampoo was in the pillow, and it would remind him that his life wasn't his own and that the woman he loved was not the woman he could stay with.

Thor growled in frustration, picked up the chair that had been supporting his sore backside for the better part of a day, and hurled it into the wall where it splintered into a thousand pieces.

The chair carnage made him feel marginally better. At the very least he needed to bathe. His mood would improve after he'd cleaned up and had something to eat. Thor entertained the idea of sneaking off to the little nook with a cot that had been serving as his temporary bedroom, but decided against it. There was too much to be done.

The Thunder God unlaced his armor and let it drop with a muffled clang, where he nudged it into a corner with his foot. He peeled his shirt up next, wincing as he drew it up over his shoulders. One of the first things Sif had done when she'd moved into his quarters was add a mirror near her clothes trunk. Thor moved in front of it. It was roughly the size of a small serving platter, but it served well enough to show him that the bonk he had received from an annoyed Frost Giant wasn't healing as fast as he'd like.

The vivid purple and yellow, with black spots marking where the giant's knuckles had made contact, stretched from the top of his back down to his shoulder blade.

He sighed. Once upon a time he would have gone to war over a punch thrown in frustrated anger, but now he sympathized with the Frost Giants. They had been viewed as a lesser race by the Asgard and the other worlds for millenia. Now, with their home planet virtually destroyed, they had to accept the Asgard's help or face destruction. Thor had to admit it was a hard place to be in: accept help from a race that had won wars that decimated their people, had better technology, better living, it would be degrading. So Thor had taken the advice Odin had given him so long ago, and brushed off the Jotun's action, albeit rather painfully.

So lost was he in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him, and almost jumped out of his skin when a small hand lightly touched his bruise.

"That looks painful," Sif said softly.

"Aye," Thor agreed, reluctantly stooping to reach for his shirt. The bath was out now, with her there.

Sif looked hesitant, tucking a strand of black hair over her ear. He wondered briefly why she was wearing her official court gown.

"I was wondering," she said, eyes flitting up to meet his and a light blush staining her cheeks, "There's an official court meeting this afternoon, and I confess that with all the meetings yesterday I didn't get enough rest last night. I was wondering- I mean, perhaps you might join me in sleep? Just for a bit?"

Thor allowed his face no expression, but inside his thoughts clamored against each other. She wanted to take a nap with him? It was harmless and yet it set his stomach churning. Thor fixed his face into what he hoped was a passable smile.

"Unfortunately, my friend," he was careful to enunciate the word friend, "I still have a lot of work to do. Enjoy your rest and don't let me detain you."

With that he fairly fled from the chambers that used to be his, good mood entirely gone. Not for the first time he raged over the fact that his life was not his own. Thor knew he was being a baby about it, but_ damn _if he didn't just want to murder something right now.

He strode off towards Indun's Garden, pace quickening when he heard Sif calling after him.

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><p>.x.<p>

Jane spent all of two minutes sitting restlessly in the high backed brown chair she'd picked as her perch before hopping up to prowl nervously around the room, poking at the furnishings.

She was too nervous to sit still. Part of her brain knew that she was standing in an archaeologists/anthropologists' wet dream, but she couldn't get past the holy-shit-Thor-was-so-close circles her head kept running in. Jane knew she was being ridiculous, but she just couldn't help it. This thing with Thor haunting her thoughts would finally end, one way or another. She had to know if she was being silly, or if they had a chance. She needed to hear it from his own mouth if he wanted Sif, if the thing that they'd had was just that: a thing. Or if he really did want her. She had to know.

The rooms Sif had given them were extensive. There was a separate bedroom for each of them, on top of a deep fire pit in one room where Jane supposed they were to cook meals should they want to. She wondered what would actually go in a pit that big. Not the average cheese burger, that was for sure. Perhaps a cow. One further perusal one of the doors was revealed to open up to one of the loveliest gardens she'd ever seen, and not just because it was a garden on an alien world.

"I'm going to poke around a bit," Jane called as she scampered out the door, ignoring Darcy's muttered "long as its not Sif's eye."

Jane bypassed her 'bedroom' and headed for the garden. It was connected to their chambers and so she figured it wouldn't be too horrible if she looked around for a bit.

The garden was gorgeous. There were a lot of flowers and plants that she recognized, and some she didn't. It was spectacular in its simplicity. The warm sunlight highlighted the golden colors of the dying grass; autumn appeared to be setting in in Asgard as well as Earth. Some plants were still living though: bits of green dotted the scenery like gems, and flowers waved their bright heads in the slow breeze.

A winding stream meandered lazily through the garden. Jane followed it, hopping from rock to rock, till the steam ran into an ornate koi pond. Pale green lily pads dotted the surface of the water and she spied the shadowy bodies of koi as they moved beneath the flat plants, giving themselves away as bright flashes of color that rippled the surface like ropes of diamonds.

Jane was mesmerized by the peacefulness of it all and for a moment she forgot where she was.

Shouts interrupted her and she glanced up just in time to see Thor hop down from the golden rampart he'd been running along, completely bypassing the stairs. Sif came running out after him, red and gold dress tangled up in one fist to better help her run. Thor threw a glance back at her, and then to Jane's utter astonishment he jumped straight into the koi pond where the lily pads hid all signs of his entry.

Well. The pond was certainly a lot deeper than she'd imagined.

Sif skidded to a halt on the rampart. Jane looked up at her, glad that she'd left her hood up.

"Um," Sif called, "Did you happen to see someone run pass here?"

Jane remained mute, knowing her voice might give her away, and merely pointed farther down the rampart.

Sif gave a preoccupied little wave of thanks and sprinted away shouting, "I know you don't like it, but dammit we are going to _talk_ about this!"

Jane raised an eyebrow. Trouble in paradise?

When Sif was safely gone Thor popped out of the koi pond in a spray of water, lily pads, and annoyed flopping koi. He heaved himself out and shook like a dog, then straightened and began picking lily pads and koi out of his clothes, muttering angrily to himself. Jane watched him, her heart felt like it was about to vault straight out of her body propelled by nervous adrenaline.

A nervous little laugh escaped her. Even covered in pond water and plants he was still adorable, and for some reason she wanted nothing more at that moment to be in his arms, and damn the consequences. Thoughts of asking him what the hell was up with Sif, thoughts of the war with Loki, the Avengers, everything, that all took a hike.

She broke into a run.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Thor pulled a wriggling koi out of his shirt, grimaced at its wildly popping eyes and gasping mouth, and tossed it back in the koi pond.

He couldn't believe he'd just hid in the freaking koi pond. What was he? A man or a mouse? Hogun and Volstagg and Fandral would never let him live it down when they found out. And Sif would be hurt. Thor sighed. He supposed that they _would_ have to talk, eventually. He just wished that she would accept the fact that his heart just wasn't in it. If he couldn't have Jane...well, being alone was a pretty miserable way to live, but dammit it was his choice.

A strangled laugh jolted him from his thoughts, and he looked up holding a struggling koi by its white gold tail just in time to see a cloaked figure running straight at him.

His first thought was '_Assassin_'.

Thor dropped the koi, vaguely hearing it land with a plop back in its habitat. He balled up a fist and hammered right at his attacker's side. To his complete surprise a slim gloved hand caught his wrist and yanked him forward. The woman's booted foot curled around his ankle and he felt himself tipping forward. Thor rolled them so that he was on top, but she clamped her legs around his waist and rolled them again.

Thor grunted when she sat on his stomach. She put back her hood and warm familiar brown eyes stared into his own.

Jane Foster waved at him from her perch on top of him. "Hi!"

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	26. Chapter 26 Love and Spies

**Author's Note:** _Here we go again :p I'm heading to vacation on Monday for vacation and so I'll have a LOT of time to write on the plane. I'll probably do a mass dump when I get back. Yummy heat and sun after weeks and weeks of negative temps is going to be awesome. Anyway, happy reading! Hope it makes you guys squee enough (I can't sense if my own attempted squee writing is squee worthy), and don't hesitate to let me know what you think!_

_Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 25**: Love and Spies

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Thor merely stared at her as though he'd seen a ghost, and for a moment Jane wondered whether she had made a horrible mistake. She didn't feel like getting off of him though. His hand came up slide against her cheek, brushing her brown hair away from her face. Jane's eyes slide closed of their own violation. All she could think of was the feel of his warm palm against her cheek, his slightly rough thumb making gentle sweeping motions against her cheekbone.

"Jane," he whispered.

Her eyes opened to find him looking at her as though he had never seen her before. The sense of wonderment and almost reverence on his face made her feel as though she were the only thing in the world. Butterflies erupted in her stomach and her hands trembled slightly. It was an odd feeling, as she'd never felt that wanted by a man before, but it was certainly a feeling she could get used to.

"Hey you," she whispered back.

Her words seemed to shock him from the daze he'd been in and he suddenly crushed her against him with a fervor that made her gasp. She didn't push him away, though. Jane's arms slid around him and she tangled her hands in his shaggy blond hair and stuck her face in his neck. She couldn't resist taking a deep whiff of his warm skin; he smelled like summer storm rain, leather, and some unidentifiable male scent that made him Thor.

A chuckle shook his large body. "Are you sniffing me?"

Jane grinned against his neck. So she'd been had. "I might be."

Thor pulled back to look at her, once again framing her face in his large hands. She balked at the serious look on his face. If he was going to dump her after a hug like that, well, she knew she couldn't exactly beat him up but she would definitely land in a punch that he would not forget.

"I am going to kiss you," he warned her.

Jane laughed. That wasn't at all what the worries of her paranoid mind had thought. She pushed back her hood and tied up her long brown locks into a sloppy pony tail so that they would not get in the way of any serious making out. And there would definitely be making out if she had anything to say about it.

"You'd better," she told him playfully, "If I am not weak in the knees in the next eight seconds than I am lodging a complaint with the board."

Thor hooked a finger under her chin and drew her gently to him, the soft touch a stark contrast to the smoldering need she could see growing in his eyes.

"I _am_ the board," he growled, seconds before his mouth crashed into hers.

He kissed her with a fervor that made a heat boil low in her belly. Jane laughed, throwing all caution to the wind and silenced all of the warning bells that were clanging in the back of her head. She squirmed in his lap and he let out a quiet moan, which couldn't help but instill a small feeling of triumph in her. Thor made her lose all sense and she didn't give a flying rat's ass whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was kissing her and nothing else mattered.

Thor's mouth was hot on hers and when his tongue slid like silk into her mouth, she was voicing no arguments. Jane gave as good as she got. Her thighs gripped his waist and she ran her nails through his hair, gently scratching down the back of his neck. She got a low groan for her efforts and Jane grinned.

Thor's lips blazed a hot line from her mouth, across the line of her jaw, and down the column of her throat. He was careful with his whiskers not to scratch her, and Jane had to gasp at the erotic feeling of his lips tickling and licking their way down her neck.

When he got to the swell of her breasts, just barely visible above the line of her dress and corset cloak, he tore himself away with a ragged groan.

Huh, she had wondered which one of them would be the first to come to their senses. Well it wasn't her. She wasn't sure if she should be worried about that, but then decided that she didn't care. Jane wanted to drag his mouth back to hers but the voice of reason that had been silently shouting all the while was now veritably screaming that what they were doing was not right. Jane told the voice in her head to shut up, but she didn't try to kiss him again. Instead she drew him close, stroking his hair like he'd done so many times for her in her dreams. Thor rested his head against her collarbone and she enjoyed watching his eyes slide closed. This was their moment, a quiet space in time that belonged to no one else.

"How've you been?" she asked after a while.

"Tired," he answered, "We've been in talks with the Frost Giants, and we can't get them to agree to a treaty. All the same they are clamoring for our help. Father has given me the responsibility of overseeing it, and I am grateful that I have earned back his trust but-"

"It's a lot on your shoulders," she finished when he hesitated.

He nodded, and they were quiet for a while. Jane took a good look at him and he looked no better than when she saw him on her dream beach months ago. Thor looked exhausted. His expression was haggard and she had a sinking suspicion that he wasn't eating enough. She wondered when he had last slept. There were shadows in his face that had not been present the face that she had fallen in love with on Earth all those years ago.

Jane chewed her lip, wanting to ask about Sif but also not wanting to harass him about it. She could be patient. She'd waited this long after all. Thor looked up and caught her expression. He sat up and kissed her forehead before pulling her against him. Jane's arms slid around him and he held her, their hug echoing none of the previous passion but all of the love.

"Ask your question, sweetheart," he said.

"I heard more about Sif," Jane said finally.

"Ah," Thor said. He was quiet for a moment. "Odin gave her to me to be my wife. It is the way of our people, and I knew it was a possibility but I didn't think- I never thought to ask if my mother loved my father when he wed her, I guess I just assumed it. Now I wonder, because I do not love Sif."

"What are you going to do?" Jane asked, afraid of what he was going to say and afraid to leave the comfort of his arms especially after what they had just shared.

As though he read her thoughts his grip on her tightened, preventing escape. Jane snuggled further into his hug. No escape was alright with her, since it was him who was doing the detaining.

"I will work it out," he said firmly, "I need to do what's best for my people, it is my duty as their future king. I serve them, but I also serve myself. I will _not_ live without you Jane Foster and I will not allow my people to abandon yours in your time of need. Especially since we created the problem in the first place."

He tilted her face up to his and gave her a crooked grin. "Deal?"

Jane kissed him thoroughly enough to make his breathing turn ragged. "Deal."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

A pair of green eyes watched them from the cover of some thick shrubbery. After those green eyes rolled themselves in disgust, their owner inserted his pointer finger into his mouth and made a quiet gagging noise.

A bony rotted hand poked Loki in the side and he glanced down at his daughter. Hel's one thin blond eyebrow was threatening to disappear into her hairline and she regarded him with an expression that was annoyance bordering on exasperation.

"I don't see how watching people play tonsil hockey helps our coup any," she whispered.

Loki glowered at her. "Because we're sneaking in, and the snogging love ferrets are sitting right in front of one of my secret entrances!"

Hel rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Sure. Because I figured it might be because you have something against my uncle and watching him make with the googly eyes with a girl that he can't have registers in that cold part of you that is happy when other people are miserable."

Loki ground his teeth. "What of it? Thor stole everything from me! He doesn't deserve that human bullshit happy ending."

"Jealous much?" Hel muttered.

Loki stuck his finger in her ear and then had to muffle her mouth with his hand when she yelped. "You'll get it when you're older."

"Whatever. What is our plan, father? You promised me that I wouldn't have to stay in stupid dreary Niflheim any longer if I helped you, and I am ready to get the freaking show on the road."

"Patience is a virtue," Loki muttered.

"It is only if it gets me what I want," Hel countered.

Loki looked down at the little girl in the bushes next to him and couldn't stop the expression of fondness that flashed fleetingly across his face. Hel had been a complete accident, a result of experimentation with a woman he'd barely known. When the woman's origins were discovered Odin had had her quietly disappeared from Asgard and Loki had never discovered what had become of her. Their affair had been a secret and he had never told anyone that he had a daughter. He'd seen that the woman's child had become a citizen of Asgard. While Odin had recognized her as Asgardian, he had also banished her for what she was: a halfbreed. Though, she wasn't really a halfbreed Loki realized. She was pure blooded Jotun, born of two parents who both had the shape-shifting abilities and who were excellent at keeping secrets.

Loki had never been one for responsibility but looking down at Hel as the girl sat crouched in the bushes impatiently waiting for the next step of the plan, he felt a tiny flicker of affection in him. Hel would be a brilliant sorceress one day. She just needed the right teacher.

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued_...


	27. Chapter 27 Daring and Oops

**Author's Note**:_ Experimenting with formatting. The periods are kinda weird, but I never really like stories that are all mashed together like. I compromise: period, line slash thingy, period. Hmm, we'll have to see if it works. On another note, don't you hate it when you bust your ass making something and fret about how its going to do, and when you finally put it out there there's no good or bad criticism, only nothing. Lol, it makes me grind my teeth and wonder where I went wrong. Ah well, back to the drawing board._

_Read and Review please, I love hearing what you guys think!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 27:** Daring and Oops

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They both came back to their senses around the same time. Jane was slightly worried for a few seconds that it would become awkward, that all of the doubts that had been plaguing her would come surging in like a mini worry tidal wave. Which they did, only it was more of a hurricane. Jane made to scootch away from him, the self conscious part of her fretting that he would indeed regret what they'd shared. He couldn't let little ol' her ruin his political standing, could he? Thor clamped an arm around her before she'd gone an inch and tucked her up against his side. She couldn't have gone anywhere even if she'd wanted to. Which she didn't.

Jane got his not so subtle hint and decided she wasn't complaining. She rested her head against his shoulder and together they watched the golden sunlight play across the quiet crystalline surface of the pond. Stray yellow and orange and red leaves from the thin ivory birches dotting Indun's garden moved in swirls around the garden, cavorted about by a light autumn breeze.

"Now what?" Jane asked finally, unable to stop herself. She had to know.

Thor chuckled. "I remember the manners my mother tried to pound into my head, and show you around."

Jane shoved a small grey rock around with her booted foot, uncertain. "Sif requested that we stay in the rooms she gave us. I'm not going to lie to you Thor, I am happy to see you, _I am_, but I can't mess this up for my people. We can't handle this Loki thing alone. A lot of people could die."

Thor tilted her chin up and she found herself held captive my his clear blue gaze. He had such amazing eyes. They made her brain immediately forget everything it knew, and she started thinking about what those eyes might look like in nothing but what nature gave him. A silly grin plastered her face. He would be absolutely freaking magnificient.

Jane gave her head a slight shake. They were having a serious conversation here, no time for drooling.

"Jane Foster I will allow no harm to come to you or your people. You helped me when I had nothing and I will never forget that. That being said, I would like to think that being heir apparent to Asgard means that I do have some power," he said wryly, "Sif was offered a position that I did not extend and I have no plans to encourage it. I have been courteous because she is a old friend and I care for her, but I will not let that affect you or innocent lives."

Jane smiled and kissed his cheek. "I trust you."

Thor got to his feet and helped Jane to hers. "Come. You showed me your planet, I'll show you mine."

Jane hopped up and refrained masterfully from an 'I'll show you mine comment'. Now was not the time for dirty jokes. What kind of ambassador was she? Making passes at the king's son, she ought to be ashamed of herself, and she couldn't help a blush staining her cheeks. He held her hand like they were thirteen and about to go for a first date. Heh, date. Thor led her out of the garden, and in her excitement she forgot to tug her hood back up to hide her face.

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><p>.x.<p>

Psylocke and Darcy stood at the edge of the garden and watched them leave. The former had her arms crossed and a disapproving frown pinched her delicate features together. The latter was doing a very quiet and very vigorous victory dance that involved air punching and super bowl touchdown moves.

"Okay I went along with letting them be because you said it couldn't go wrong," Psylocke said through gritted teeth, "I sincerely hope that I and the rest of the population of planet Earth do not come to regret this."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Killjoy. Thor won't let anything happen to her. Give the Grand Thunder Dude some credit."

"Whatever. Come, we need to finish prepping Jarvis for the speech that should hopefully save the world," Psyclocke growled.

Darcy tapped her fingers together. "Exxxccellent. Juicy gossip will soon be mine. Mwahaha. I bet Thor does it better than a dirty novel."

"You scare me sometimes," Psylocke said.

"It's a gift," Darcy said airily.

"A gift I seemed to have missed, thankfully."

Darcy sniffed. "Well we can't all be special can we?"

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><p>.x.<p>

It was as close to a date as Jane could hope for. Thor was the gracious host, something she really couldn't admit to since his time on Earth was spent getting hit by her car and listening to her have conniptions about her stolen equipment. Here, they had time to just…be. He held her hand and pointed things out to her like she was a tourist in New York or something, not in another freaking Universe. Every time she thought she couldn't be surprised anymore, she found herself standing still and gaping like a fish out of water. She'd known Asgard was big, but damn. Thor led her through crowded bright streets that were nothing like Earth, and yet it still felt oddly like home.

He kept her hand clasped in his large warm one. It gave her butterflies the gentleness with which he treated her. They hadn't really had time to get to know each other on Earth before he was snatched from her. Now she dared to entertain the idea that what they had might grow, and she hoped against hope that they had a future.

"Here," Thor said, handing her a bubbly glass of something yellow and very frothy, "Try this."

Jane's eyes met those of the street vendor who had just poured it from a massive barrel on his little horse drawn wagon. The man grinned and waved a hand at her, his red cap flopping sideways. Jane watched the drink froth at her dubiously. She trusted Thor completely, but she could hear her mom's voice telling her to never accept booze that didn't have a cap or an un-popped tab.

Fuckit. She took a long swig.

"Holy shit," she gasped, choking.

Both Thor and the vendor watched her anxiously and she gave them a reassuring grin before taking another long sip. "I feel like I got kicked in the face, but it's delicious!"

Thor pressed a kiss to her temple, and her cheeks pinkened as it was in full view of the vendor. "It's mead, sweetheart. It'll put hair on your chest."

"Ew. I've always hated that saying."

The vendor nodded vehemently. "It's never a good thing when the woman out mans the man. Hair on a lady's chest. Blech."

Thor slapped down another coin. "I am _not_ out manned. Another!"

The vendor chuckled and filled another tankard. "If you say so, your Highness."

Thor tossed it back and Jane watched his throat bob as she sipped her drink. She had the urge to nibble at the golden stubble-covered column of his throat, but there were some things one just didn't do in public. He finished the tankard and set it down firmly, wiping at the froth on his mouth. Pity. She'd love to have a taste of mead Thor.

Jane finished her drink and set it back down on the vendor's stand. "Thank you sir, it was lovely."

The vendor bowed. "Always a pleasure. And it was nice to meet the miss who had our Lord down in the dumps for the past couple of years or so."

Jane went pink.

Thor jabbed an accusing finger at the innocent looking vendor. "She doesn't need to know that," he hissed.

The vendor snorted. "Proper sad sack you were, pardon my candor, your Highness. The taverns lost a good portion of their income what with your having found your grownup side."

Thor groaned. "Must you?"

"Yep."

Jane eyed Thor. "A drinker eh? The lore books weren't kidding."

"There were wenches too," the vendor offered helpfully.

"Oh _really_?"

"Jane!" Thor protested, "You- I just-, I didn't know-." He stopped and looked at her pleadingly. "Help."

Jane kissed him right on his warm, full mouth. "I know. I love you."

His brow smoothed and she felt like an ass for teaming up with the vendor to pick on him. Thor pulled her into a half hug. "Little one, you will be the death of me."

"Little? The hell I'm little!"

He chuckled. "Little and lethal."

"Oooo I will kick your ass."

The vendor waved them on, chuckling. They moved off down the street still squabbling amicably, Jane punching him gently in the side and Thor laughing. She felt free. It was a weird feeling. Donald and her had never spent time like this, just being together. Like she'd told Thor, he'd been better with patients rather than relationships. Thor was more than Donald had ever tried to be, he was her friend. She wouldn't trade him for the world.

Their steps led them to a large hall. The building was golden much like the rest of Asgard. It had a high domed roof, as though they'd taken a long boat and over turned it over four high stone walls. Nordic serpents curved around the eves of the building, and from their mouths dangled lanterns curved from twisted metal. The road to the hall was well worn. Jane could see the ruts hundreds of years of feet had worn into the stone. Fain yells and shouts echoed from within.

"What's in there?"

Thor chewed his lip, obviously debating whether or not to tell her. "Come see."

Jane followed him into the dark hole of the doorway. It took her eyes a while to adjust to the darkness. Bodies were packed in like sardines. People shouted, pushed and shoved. Several times she was almost pushed from Thor's body.

If not for the death grip he kept on her hand, and her handy knowledge of knowing how to navigate a mosh pit, she probably would have been separated from him and squashed. Jane felt like she was back in the pit at an _All That Remains_ concert. The smell of sweat and booze and sawdust, the crush of bodies, and the noise. It was all so familiar. The only thing missing was the stench of weed and some boneheaded tramp flashing her tits at the crowd.

With the help of Thor's considerable bulk parting the crowd and her elbows they made it to the center. The mob of people stretched around in an open circle. Two men stood in the circle, both bare chested and bleeding. Both party's knuckles were split and bruised. The crowd shouted, egging them on. Jane couldn't figure it out. She knew Vikings liked to fight, but what gives?

She tugged at Thor's sleeve and put her mouth to his ear. "What's going on?"

"Challenge!" he roared over the noise, nose tickling through her hair.

Challenge? Her gave went back to the two fighters kicking the shit out of each other in the sawdust. A bitter taste lingered in her mouth. She had a bad feeling about this.

The brawnier of the two combatants, a huge blond man with hair a darker yellow than Thor's and blue Nordic tribal tattoos, got his opponent in a headlock. The crowd roared. Another man with dark hair and blue eyes peeled himself from the crowd. He raced to the two fighters and bent down.

"Do you yield?" he shouted.

"Never!" the man in the headlock shouted back, "The cur slept with my wife!_ My wife!_"

Jane's heart froze and she looked nervously between both combatants, not wanting to know what was going to happen and having a sinking suspicion that she knew just that. The dark haired guy who seemed to be running things shrugged and turned away. The blond man's arms flexed around his victim and the snap of the man's neck in the following quiet made Jane feel sick. A woman's sob echoed in the stillness. What the hell was going on?

The announcer turned back and his eyes fell on Thor and Jane standing at the edge of the crowd. Jane's insides froze.

"Look what we have here!" he called. "Our would-be king and the woman who's driving a wedge between him and his kingdom!"

The crowd seemed to notice them and they roared for blood. Jane felt herself going cold. This was not good. Thor kept a protective arm around her but the chilling calls of the crowd made her afraid. Thor shrugged off his armor and cloak and it clattered to the floor. He rolled his big shoulders and moved out into the sawdust clearing.

"Don't make me kick your ass, Balder," he warned.

Balder chuckled, "It's not me who has to problem, my Leige. I got no quarrel with the government. These fellows here do. They don't like your lovin' outside the species, pardon my crudity. It isn't proper a blue blooded Asgard with a dirt bound human."

At Balder's wave of his hand a giant of a man stepped into the circle to face Thor. Jane swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from the two fighters. Thor wasted no time but barreled straight into his opponent's stomach, dropping him like a tree with a crash. The crowd yelled, and Jane was relieved to see Thor laughing. Her Thunder God was in his element, a true brawler at heart. To Jane's delight the crowd seemed to side with their future king, cheering him on and shouting advice. Good. Thor wasn't suffering on her account. She felt enough like a intruding tramp already.

The other fighter, even though he was freaking huge, only landed in a couple of hits. Thor was the better fighter and he was kicking his ass. Jane breathed a sigh of relief. When the previous poor guy had died, all she could see was the face of the man she'd killed outside Skinny Minnie's. This was no joke, the shit was real.

Thor mashed his forehead into his opponent's and the man went out like a light. Two more peeled themselves from the crowd, and Jane saw the glint of a knife. The cowards. She was so mad she couldn't see straight. Jane didn't think, just reacted. She balled up a fist, feeling the stiff leather of her gloves creak on her clenched fist and the cool of the padded metal against her knuckles. She flew across the sawdust floor like an arrow, feet barely skimming the surface she was moving so fast.

Both guys were big, and she went for the nearest one. She grasped the hand that held the knife, used the man's knee as a step, hooked her legs around his neck like she'd seen Natasha do so many times and twisted. His neck didn't break like she'd intended but he went down screaming. She sprang off of him, hands out and ready to grapple, looking for the next guy.

There wasn't another guy, however, and she looked around at Thor.

He was sitting on the back of the other attacker, the man was out cold. She did not fail to notice the shit eating grin on his face, and the fact that he was looking at her with love, admiration, and pride written all over him. Thor stood and took her in his arms.

"Asgard!" he shouted, "I present Jane Foster of Earth, the bravest woman I have ever known!"

The crowd roared its approval. Jane went pink. They were clapping for her! She couldn't help the grin as Thor kissed her hair and whispered, "Thank you sweetheart."

The grin froze on Jane's face. Sif stood near Balder and the look of ferocious outrage and betrayal on her beautiful face was not good. Jane swallowed. This was so not good.

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_To be continued..._


	28. Chapter 28 Cats and Claws

**Author's Note**: _I have an Anatomy and Physiology exam tomorrow. I am going to fail, lol. I feel like tomorrow I am going to be walking to the metaphorical gallows. Uuuugh. Not looking forward to it. This is what you get when you play Skyrim instead of studying. Yep. I regret nothing. It's still gonna suck though. Here's the next chapter guys. Maybe a pat on the back, and a there there LNAN, you're not a total bonehead? Back to emergency cramming. Btw I just saw Terminator Salvation for the first time, and while I've had no respect for Christian Bale after his __temper tantrum, I absolutely looooved the characters of Marcus and Blair. Blair was a badass and Marcus was yummy._

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you guys! Btw sorry this chapter was so short, but at least I got one out sooner, hey?_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 28**: Cats and Claws

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Jane wondered what to do. While she knew she_ should_ be scared of Sif, she wasn't. What she_ was_ scared of was what Sif could do to her people. Jane felt sick to think that she could have so recklessly endangered billions of innocent lives, just for a freaking date. Jane swallowed, she hadn't thought she'd get caught. Sif turned on her heel and pushed her way out of the crowded hall. Jane glanced back at Thor who turned down to look at her, blue eyes twinkling merrily. She had to smile, he really loved kicking ass and she thought it was adorable. Her smile faltered. Sif was a problem though, one she had no idea how to handle.

The crowd pressed in on them cheering. Jane was surprised to find that they were so accepting of her. A few gave her cold looks and left, but the majority were slapping her on the back and inviting her out for drinks. Jane wished she could get to know them, and wondered whether it was too late to go back and get a degree in Anthropology just so she'd have an excuse to stay.

Thor's own grin faded when he realized she wasn't happy. "What is it?"

She closed her eyes in pain. His mouth against her ear sent shivers down her spine, and she wanted to stay and feel more of them but she didn't have a choice. All she could think of was Sif and the look on the Norse woman's cold beautiful face. "I have to go. I love you."

Jane kissed his cheek, memorizing the feel of his bearded under her lips, just in case she wouldn't ever get a chance to do it again. She flipped her hood up over her face with a gloved hand and left a stunned Thunder God staring after her, wondering what had gone wrong.

She wriggled through the crowd in record time, pushing open the great doors to emerge from the darkness into the cool light of the afternoon. The street wasn't all that crowded for which she was insanely grateful. It gave her room to run. She was glad the streets weren't all that complicated. In high school she'd spent a week in London with her Shakespeare class, and even _with_ a map she'd got so lost her head had almost spun like a bad exorcism movie. Not that being lost in London was a bad thing. Jane Foster was of the mind that UK pubs were one of the Universe's greatest creations.

Her breathing was rhythmic. Her boots pounded out a quick staccato on the cobblestones. The leather tails of her cloak flared out behind her. The leather of the corset cloak was supple enough to not restrict her breathing in any way. While it wasn't her gym clothes, it worked pretty well to handle her adventures like it did.

She made it back to the palace in record time, pausing just inside the great doors to catch her breath. Hopefully she made it back in time, but for what exactly she wasn't sure.

"Who do you think you are?"

Jane spun. Sif stood behind her, fists clenched. The astrophysicist was surprised to see the unshed tears in Sif's eye, but she refused to let herself feel guilty. She had to handle this carefully, though.

"I'm sorry," Jane said simply, the words popping out of her mouth before she could stop them, "I love him."

"And I don't?" Sif all but screamed.

Jane said nothing. What could she say?

"I've loved him for years. _Years_," Sif said, agony punctuating every word, "I've waited for him to look at me, see me for so long. And then you show up."

"Then I showed up," Jane said, "I love him. I want him to be happy."

"Not with you," Sif snarled, hands flexing as though she'd like nothing better than to wrap them around Jane's throat, "He was given to _me_."

Jane ground her teeth and put her hands on her hips. Enough was enough. She was talking about Thor like he was some present, some object that could be bought and sold with no life of his own. A crowd was gathering about them, stony faced courtesans that grouped about her and Sif as though they were observers at a chess match.

"Hey," Jane said, cutting Sif's tirade off, "I said I want him to be happy, and if you cared for Thor you would too. Did you ever think about what _he_ wants?"

Sif crossed her arms. "Not a mere mortal, certainly."

Jane shook her head. "If Thor told me that he didn't want me, I'd go. I would be pissed off and miserable but I'd do it. I'd leave you two to your happily ever after if that was what he wanted. Forgive me for sounding like a snot, but he chose me. I love him. I do not have the strength to let him go, lady, so take it or leave it."

Sif smiled, and Jane felt a shiver crawl down her spine. "Fine. I challenge you then, Jane Foster."

The onlookers surrounding them gasped and for a second Jane felt like she was in some bad cheerleader movie. Her inner monologue suddenly got all high pitched five year old and girly: _gasp, you challenge me because I stole your man? You bitch! _None of the people surrounding her looked like they were joking though. They took Sif's challenge as completely serious. Jane blanched when she remembered the man who got his neck broken in the Challenge Hall she had just left. Would Balder be announcing her death like she was some idiot sportster? Yeah, she could see that happening all too well.

What had she got herself into? It wasn't like she could refuse. Best do it as confident as possible to save as much face as she could, even though she felt like being sick all over Sif's fancy tooled leather boots.

Jane squared her shoulders. "Bring it, Barbie."

Sif's face fell almost imperceptibly, as though she had expected the diminutive little scientist to refuse but she covered it quickly. "Very well. Tomorrow. Someone will come for you at the appropriate time."

Sif turned to go and the crowd began to disperse, drama apparently over.

"Wait!" Jane called.

Sif turned.

"Don't tell Thor."

Sif quirked a smile at her. "I wouldn't dream of it."

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_To be continued..._


	29. Chapter 29 Dueling and Mortality

**Author's Note:** _I wasn't happy with the Terminator fic I wrote, so I completely trashed it and then submitted a new version. Lol, even if no one reads it at least I'm happy with it now. Victory is mine. And yes, that was a shameless last ditch effort to get peeps to read it. On another note, I completely mapped out this story, so I know how it ends, finally. When I started I had absolutely no idea how I was going to fill in the pieces. But now, lol, the end is in sight. I am going to do my absolute best to get this finished before the Avengers film comes out, but we all know how LNAN and goals do together: badly. BTW DID ANYONE SEE THE NEW AVENGERS TRAILER? Omygod I laughed so hard I nearly cried. _Loki_: I have an ARMY! _Stark_:...We have a Hulk._

_Anyhooodly, here's the next installment, lemme know whatcha guys think on it!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 29:** Dueling and Mortality

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"You did WHAT?"

Jane winced, stuck a finger in her ringing ear, and jiggled it. War Machine loomed up behind the rail thin purple haired ninja, a white faced Darcy hoovering by his armored elbow. Psylocke paused in her tirade only to take a deep breath, and then continued as though air were just a roadblock in her lecturing rage crusade. Her rage gave her cheeks a red hue and in contrast with her red tattoo, it made for an interesting pattern. If the situation weren't so rotten, Jane would have pointed out the spectacular Rorschach pattern on her face.

"What part of 'lie low' didn't you understand? Getting in a 'we dual at dawn' fight is not lying low!" Psylocke snarled, advancing on Jane like a Terminator after someone named Connor.

"I'm sorry!" Jane whispered, ashen faced, "It just kind of happened."

War Machine tromped over to the two women and inserted himself between them. "What's done is done. Foster, I'd like you take this moment to heart and learn from it. If you were in the military you'd be court marshaled so fast you'd get whiplash. But you're not military, you're civilian and I can't do jack shit right now. At this moment we need to figure out how to fix this, work it to our advantage."

Jane nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Tears were burning at the corners of her eyes, but she would be damned if she let them fall.

"Let's all put our heads together, then," Beast said gently.

He pushed wire rimmed spectacles up his nose and set down the steaming pot of tea he carried on the table. Psylocke growled under her breath and stalked to the table, accepting her tea cup very carefully, as though she'd break it if she didn't pay attention. War Machine didn't sit; he and Iron Man both broke furniture when they tried to use them. He ignored the tea.

Jane swallowed a hiccup and pulled a mug towards her, fingers curling around the warmed pottery. The mug, Nordic knots curling around it in an endless weave, quickly heated her cold hands, making her fingertips tingle deliciously. Jane forced the tears back and inhaled the flavored steam. Mmmm, who would have known Vikings liked Earl Grey?

It wasn't much, but the tea made her feel insanely better. "I'll fix it," Jane said, "Whatever it takes."

Psylocke massaged her temples, then sighed. "Alright. Let's get started. For the record, I'm still pissed off though."

Jane smiled, but it was a short humorless one that was gone before it really even got started. "Noted."

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Darcy stood awkwardly by while her boss, War Machine, Psylocke, and Beast sat around that table like they were generals in their war room drying to avert doomsday. Jane's spine was ramrod straight and her eyes clear, but Darcy knew her boss better than anyone. Jane's quivering chin belied the fact that her boss was about to come to pieces at the seams, and Darcy's heart broke for her.

Darcy had always been a fan of the idea that 'true love always finds a way', but life was starting to shake her back to planet Earth. Love didn't find a way, and she was starting to see that now. Jane kept getting knocked down whenever she tried to be with Thor, and this last time Darcy felt like it was her fault. Darcy had encouraged her boss to go see Asgard's golden boy, and it was Darcy's fault Jane was in this mess.

Darcy clenched her fingers around the sheaf of paperwork she held in her hands. Jane relied on her for advice, she was her only real friend after all, and Darcy knew Jane Foster better than anyone.

And she had let her down. Darcy wanted to scream but the sound choked in her throat. Instead, she turned and left the room, tears clouding her vision. She stomped into the next room and dropped the papers on the table to scrub at her wet eyes.

What to do? How could she fix this? Love sucked. Her love life sucked, and her boss's love life sucked. Her sobs turned into strangled laughter. What a joke. The Universe was funny that way.

"Miss Darcy?"

She turned. Jarvis stood behind her, black dress shirt neatly tucked into pressed black pants. He held a folder full of notes in one hand and a pen in the other. He looked adorably bewildered. Darcy mentally smacked herself the moment her libido started noticing how pretty his eyes were, and how it would like to test and see if his short blond hair was as soft as it looked. Now was _not_ the time.

Instead she got her tears under control and straightened, wiping a hand across her nose. She inadvertently tracked a trail of snot across her cheek, and squeaked. Ew, ew ew ew. Why oh why could she not be a pretty crier?

"Ew," she muttered, "Dammit."

Jarvis dangled a handkerchief over her shoulder. Darcy blew her nose and wiped up her face. "Thanks," she mumbled, still not wanting to look at him.

Jarvis caught her elbow gently when she tried to escape. "What's wrong?"

"I messed up bad," she said, head bowed, mumbling at his shirt.

"Tell me. I'll fix it," he said simply.

Darcy gave a slightly hysterical giggle. "You can't! It can't be fixed. I've ruined everything between Thor and Jane, and now Sif is going to kill my boss in some stupid duel!"

She told him the whole story, in spite of herself.

The whole nasty thing just seemed to pour from her. Jarvis was quiet a moment when she finished, and she felt her stomach drop. There it was, all out in the open. Her stupid girlish ideals about love had destroyed the world. Now that was a lot to live with. She was never going to pick up another romance novel again; love was bullshit.

Jarvis tucked a finger under her chin. Her gaze met his clear intense one, and she was struck at the intimacy of the situation she was in. Jarvis probably had no idea what a 'moment' was, but if there was ever a moment this was it. Just a few inches, all she had to do was lean forward and she would know what he tasted like. She reeled back from him. Now where the hell had_ that_ come from?

Jarvis dropped his hand awkwardly and straightened his collar. "The point is, Miss Darcy, that I am Tony Stark's butler."

She sniffled. "Yeah?"

A smile quirked at his mouth, and she wanted to kiss him again. "I have averted catastrophes much, much worse than a duel and a bit of confusion."

"Okay."

Jarvis didn't touch her again, probably figuring his touch had upset her, but he bent until their gazes were inches apart. "Do you want me to fix this?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Consider it done. Now, I'm going to have a word with the others. While I'm doing that, I need you to fetch me a javelin. Can you do that for me?"

Darcy grinned. "Yes sir!"

She scampered off, suddenly feeling much, much better about everything. She didn't know what it was about him, but she felt like a load had been taken off of her shoulders. Jarvis watched her go, smiling slightly. He reached up to touch his face. The smile looked like he imagined it did on other people: happy and content. How odd. He wasn't a person, wasn't capable of those sorts of spontaneous reactions. Yet here he was, grinning like a fool as he watched Darcy run off brown curls bouncing madly.

How strange. He did not know what to make of these new _emotion_ things. It would take some looking in to.

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Darcy rejoined them a while later, lugging a heavy javelin. Jarvis stood, set down his tea, and took it from her. He twirled it in his hands, getting a feel of the weight.

"Now," he said, "Miss Foster if you'll come with me, and bring your sword, I can teach you a thing or two about facing an oponant such as Sif."

"I still don't think this is going to work," Psylocke mumbled.

"We don't have a choice," Beast said, "And I think Jarvis's plan has merit. The Asgard are big on battles and honor. If Miss Foster conducts herself correctly, this could earn their respect more than a simple plea for help ever could."

"Whatever you say."

"What I say usually turns out to be the proper thing."

"This coming from the guy who leaves blue hairballs in the bathroom."

Beast pushed his glasses up primly. "I clean them up."

They were still arguing when Jane followed Jarvis out into the garden. The cyborg loosened his collar and stuck the javelin into the dirt. He faced Jane, hands lightly on his hips. Jane wondered what he was going to do. She was sure Stark had made his robot butler more durable than the average joe, but the idea of him getting his hands dirty was funny. Jarvis was always prim and impeccably dressed, and now he was going to train her? Hah.

"I downloaded some programs on the study of javelins, and I have reviewed the footage of Sif's battle with the destroyer. I believe I can provide an adequate foil for you," he said.

Jane took a deep breath. "I only have until some unspecified time tomorrow tomorrow to get this right. Let's do this."

Jarvis picked up his javelin and spun it expertly. "Then let us begin."

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_To be continued..._


	30. Chapter 30 Blood and Tears

**Author's Note: **_I hate exam week. Blurg._

_Please read and review! I love hearing from you guys!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 30:** Blood and Tears

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Jane felt like she was going to puke. Jarvis had not gone easy on her, and they had sparred all night.

She felt like someone had taken her limbs and clubbed them with a baseball bat tipped with gravel. The cyborg, after relentlessly putting her through a crash course of how to survive against a psycho with a javelin, instructed her to get a few hours sleep before the Asgard came to fetch her. Actually sleeping had seemed impossible given the circumstances, but she had dozed and was glad some semblance of a nap had taken place.

She woke when someone came to get her; of course Sif wouldn't have done it herself.

Jane followed the mousy looking courtesan tasked with fetching her quietly. Her boots made virtually no noise in the silent and abandoned corridors of the castle. She tugged her hood up over her face, and the soft leather felt like armor that would hide her from the world.

The courtesan held open a door for her, a giant gilded affair covered with depictions of Norse heroes beating the crap out of each other. One golden raised relief was being impaled on a sword by another relief who in turn was holding an ale mug and yelling. Jane swallowed. The images did not instill confidence. The room was filled with courtesans, silent and grim Asgardians who all turned as one to watch her as she entered. None of the faces looked friendly, if anything they all looked as though they'd like to kill her and get the whole thing over with.

Sif stood in the center of the room, waiting for her.

Jane was a tad surprised they were still in the palace, and also relieved that she wouldn't be getting her ass kicked in Balder's house of horrors. Thank god for small graces. Sif was decked out in gleaming armor, looking nothing like the court lady that she had previously played. She looked head to toe the warrior that she was, and Jane wondered what the hell she was getting into.

Godslayer hummed lightly at the small of her back, and she rested a gloved hand on the pommel of the sword. The hum was barely noticeable, but it comforted her all the same. She had designed and built the sword, and she had built and forged herself. She knew the extent of her abilities; hopefully it would be enough.

"Do you have anything to say before we begin?"

Jane cringed. She knew that obnoxious voice. So much for no Balder.

Balder circled the ring, eyeing Jane with a quirk in his mouth as though he knew exactly her train of thought, and had showed up just to annoy her.

She decided it would be bad form to flip him the bird, and instead just shook her head, exasperated.

"Very well," he said, a tad put out that she wouldn't stir the drama pot, "Myself and Frey are the witnesses to this challenge. Fight with honor, and may the righteous contender win!"

Jane's eyes slid to the tattooed blond Norse dude who'd snapped the unfortunate man's neck in the ring the other day and swallowed. His bulky arms were crossed over his chest and he wore a scowl that could contend with anything Director Fury could produce. Sif tied her hair back into a pony tail, and rammed the end of her spear into the floor.

Balder clapped his hands. "Begin!"

Jane grasped the hilt of Godslayer and the sword slid free with a whisper, black metal gleaming in the dull torchlight. The sword responded to her implant, and the tiny arc reactor in the blade, just above the hilt, powered up. A vortex formed around the blade, purple energy flickering around it as the tear formed. The vortex was completely silent, no noise escaping as the universe opened up around the blade.

Sif jabbed at Jane with her javelin, keeping the smaller woman at bay. Jane dodged the javelin's wickedly pointed tip, looking for an opening and trying her best not to die.

Sif was very, very good. There was no denying that. Jane swung, and the javelin's edge slid against Godslayer in a screech of metal. The astrophysicist was disappointed when her sword's vortex didn't eat up the metal of Sif's weapon. She wondered briefly what the javelin was made of. It was a minor setback, and if she lived through this her design was going to get a second look. Sif grinned at her, and swung her javelin, the long length of it catching Jane in the stomach.

The breath left her in a _woosh_. Damn, Sif could hit _hard_. Jane crumpled, but was up on her feet a second later. A good thing too, because the head of Sif's javelin punctured the floor in a shower of marble right where Jane's head had been a moment before. Jane danced out of the way, heart thumping madly in her chest.

She was tiring, but Sif had hardly broken a sweat, and it was all Jane could do to stay ahead of her. Simply put, Sif had more experience and more training.

Jane gritted her teeth. She was _not_ going to lose. Not to Sif, not ever.

White hot pain exploded on the inside of her right arm and side. Sif's javelin had caught her, ripping through the leather of her corset cloak to slice through the flesh of her side and arm.

Jane swore, scrambling out of the way.

"Bite off more than you could chew, hussy?" Sif taunted.

Jane flipped her off. "I am going to wipe the floor with you. This is not over yet."

Balder pointed at Sif. "Our future queen drew first blood."

The crowd shouted, applauding Sif who bowed.

"Asshole," Jane muttered, glaring at the dark haired Norseman. If she got out of this alive, she vowed she was going to kick Balder's ass next. Might as well go all out since she was already on Asgard's shit list.

Blood ran down her forearm, slicking up the sword's handle. Jane couldn't tell how bad it was, and refused to pay attention to the wound. The fuzziness in her head could be from the adrenaline coursing through her. All the same, she had to end the fight quickly. If she was bleeding out, she wasn't going to give the Sif the satisfaction of wining because her opponent had passed out from blood loss.

Sif turned to wave at the crowd. Jane turned off the arc reactor with a thought and the vortex dissipated. Jane grinned evilly and slapped the flat of the blade against Sif's armor clad bottom. Sif yelped in surprise, grabbing at her posterior.

"Pay attention princess," Jane snickered, "You wouldn't want to lose, would you?"

Sif flushed angrily and charged the astrophysicist. Jane grinned. She had gotten what she wanted: Sif was pissed off and off her game. Jane deflected the javelin with Godslayer's blade, and before Sif could react, Jane smashed her forehead into hers. Sif looked blank from the blow and she lost her balance, sitting down in surprise. Jane held Godslayer to her throat. It was over.

"Do you yield?" Balder asked, voice a surprised whisper.

Jane prayed Sif would, she didn't have the guts to lop of her head.

Sif nodded, furious angry tears in her eyes. Jane sheathed her sword in relief, glad that she wouldn't have to see if she could kill anyone in cold blood. Jane held out a hand to Sif and was shocked when the Asgard woman actually took it. Jane heaved Sif to her feet, and clasped her hand before the other woman could let go.

"I'm sorry," Jane whispered, "I truly am, but I can't give up Thor. I can't let him go."

Sif glared at her, but didn't say anything. Jane had won, and Sif had lost the right to confront her about it. Instead, the tall dark haired woman pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared. Jane stood there, rooted to the floor. She had won, but why didn't it feel like a complete win? Her head felt fuzzy and she could vaguely feel the dull throb of the wound on her side and arm. She held up her hand; her forarm and glove were slicked with blood. The sick copper smell made her stomach heave.

It was time to go. If she passed out or threw up in front of all of the Asgard, she had a sinking suspicion that it might negate her victory.

She wormed her way through the crowd, and to her surprise they let her go without any argument. Most of the faces she saw displayed nothing but acceptance at her victory, and some even a margin of respect. It was their way; she'd won the fight and won the right to pursue her agenda through combat. Some expressions were less forthcoming. A select few showed disgust and hatred. Those looks chilled her to the bone, and she had to get out of there. She couldn't say what they would do to her for defeating their future queen, but she didn't want to wait around to find out.

Besides, she still felt like she was going to puke. Nowhere ever was vomit the least bit cool.

Jane walked as calmly and sedately from the combat chamber as she could. The moment the doors closed behind her she slapped her hand over her side, grateful again for the costume that Pepper and Stark had made her. The leather constricted enough that the pressure she had to exert over her wound was mimimal.

She was concentrating so hard on wondering whether she was bleeding out or not that she didn't hear the quiet footsteps behind her.

"Who are you to shame our queen?"

The speaker's voice was low, silky, and a shiver raced up Jane's spine. She turned, and faced the man behind her. A nondescript courtier stood there, short and rather dumpy, the only memorable feature the rage twisting his face. And the fact that he'd just rammed a knife into her chest.

Jane choked as her lungs filled with blood. Just drawing a breath was pure agony.

He smiled at her. "Die, harlot."

Jane coughed and spat up blood, and knew she should do something about dying, but all she could feel at the moment was rage. Rage that the jackass standing in front of her was murdering her for a circumstance she hadn't asked for in the first place. Well screw him.

She tried to say something clever, but all she could do was gurgle. Jane dropped to her knees, loosing feeling in her limbs. The courtier knelt with her, face uncomfortably close to hers.

"This is where you earthlings should be," he whispered, "On your knees before the mighty Asgard."

"Oh shut up," Jane managed. She smiled around the blood filling her mouth and slammed the web of her hand between her thumb and pointer finger into his throat, crushing his larynx.

He fell over like a limp super sized gummy bear. Jane couldn't tell if she'd killed him or if he was just unconscious, or a wimp, since she knew she couldn't hit as hard as Natasha. She didn't know much of anything at that point. All she knew is that her body didn't hurt anymore, and that her vision was fading.

"Ah shoot," she mumbled, and collapsed unconscious.

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><p>.x.<p>

"Ms. Foster?"

Jane groaned. She had no idea where the hell she was, and her lungs and side and arm felt like a team of fire ants were gnawing on them. That soft, firm voice was accompanied by a gentle touch to the side of her neck, checking her pulse.

"Ms. Foster, can you hear me?"

Jane's eyes creaked open and she peered blearily in the general direction of the voice. A woman sat by her cot, carefully wringing out a wet washcloth. Her warm brown hair was curled and braided into a wavy halo around her head, and while Jane would have put her in her late forties, she felt a lot older than that. A kind smile tugged at her mouth, which widened when she saw that her patient was awake.

"Who are you?" Jane asked, or rather croaked.

The woman laughed, and waggled golden glowing fingers. "My name is Frigga, and I just pulled you back from the precipice. You were almost in Valhalla, my dear."

Jane painfully clawed herself up into a sitting position. Her chest hurt. "Thanks for saving me."

"Don't mention it," Frigga said, applying the cold wet washcloth to Jane's forehead and cheeks. "Do you know who stabbed you and left you in a corridor?"

Jane grimaced. "I must not have clobbered him as hard as I thought. He was a member of the court."

"Do you know why he attempted to kill you?"

"I beat Sif in a challenge," Jane mumbled.

"Hmm," Frigga said, "That makes sense."

Jane peeled the bandages away from her side, and suddenly realized she wasn't wearing anything but her underwear. She considered diving under the covers of her cot with an embarrassed squeal, and then squelched the idea. She hurt all over and didn't have the energy. And besides, Frigga reminded her of her mom, even if she was a stranger.

"How does it make sense?" Jane asked.

"Well, it is a long and complicated tale," Frigga said smiling, "Suffice it to say we Asgard are not as refined and benevolent a species as we think ourselves to be."

Jane shook her head, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"There are many of us who think our race better than others," Frigga said, sadly, "And that is why you find such opposition with seeking Thor's affection."

"You know about that?"

Frigga snorted. "My dear, _everyone_ knows. The Asgard are renown warriors of honor, and unfortunately also horrible gossips."

Jane slumped. "Oh. I ruined everything, didn't I? I only wanted Thor to be happy, and me too. But I made things worse," she said miserably.

"Do you love him?" Frigga asked softly.

Jane nodded. "I do. I need to fix this for him, whatever it takes."

Frigga laughed. "I can see why my son likes you. Well I for one approve."

Jane stared at her, confused. "What?"

The door banged open and Thor careened wildly into the room, Frey following after looking particularly grim. Thor's expression was more than a little crazed, but when his eyes fell on Jane he approached her carefully, as though he couldn't believe she was actually there. Jane meanwhile remembered that all she had on was her bra and a pair of Batman themed panties. She squeaked and dove under the covers.

Thor looked at his mother and ran a shaking hand over the scruff on his chin. "How is she?"

"Frey found me in time," Frigga said briskly, "She'll live."

Thor looked at Frey, murderous. "Who did this to her? I need to know who to kill."

Frey shook his head, apologetic. "I don't know. She was alone when I found her, and the dagger in her was military grade, what we give our soldiers."

"She said it was a courtier who stabbed her," Frigga put in.

"I'm right here, guys," Jane said, sitting back up and clutching the blanket around herself to preserve her modesty.

Thor sank into Frigga's vacated chair and massaged his temples. "That means a soldier armed a courtier, and it wasn't some malcontent working alone. There are more of them. Dammit."

"Well," Frigga said gently, "We will leave you alone for now. Ms. Foster needs her rest, and Frey and I have work to do."

Frey closed the door behind him, leaving Jane and Thor alone. Jane snuck a glance at the Thunder God sitting next to her. Thor was slumped in his chair, a frown on his handsome features. He looked tired, angry, and a little sad. Jane crawled across the cot and into his arms. He squeezed her gently, resting his chin on her head.

"I am not going to let this go," he growled, "They dared to harm what's mine."

Jane sighed. It was sweet and very, very caveman. She loved it. "You're not going anywhere without me."

"They almost killed you," Thor said, incredulous.

"Luck," Jane sniffed, "I was off my game on account of already being stabbed by your girlfriend."

"You're funny," Thor growled playfully, "But not as funny as you think you are."

Jane stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm hilarious."

"In all seriousness, Jane Foster," Thor said, low, tilting her chin up, "I love you. Whatever else gets thrown at us, never forget that. We're in this together. I'll hunt down your attackers, and he will sorely regret himself when I do."

Jane yawned. "Can the ass kicking be later? I can't keep my eyes open."

Thor chuckled. "Sure, sweetheart."

Jane crawled back into bed, making room for him. "Keep me company?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Thor settled in next to her, drawing her carefully into his arms. Jane settled against him, using his chest as a pillow and threw a leg over his. She sighed, getting drowsier by the minute and his hand running through her hair wasn't helping any. Jane gave up and passed out, happier and more content than she could remember being in a long time. Thor followed her soon after, the sandman hadn't needed much to put them both under.

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><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	31. Chapter 31 Gossip and Tea

**Author's Note: **_Sorry this has been so long in coming out. I've been so busy with school, it's ridiculous. There have been quite a few critiquing reviews sent to me. I have gone back through the story, reformatted it, taken out some of the more annoying author notes, and edited all of the mistakes that I could find to the best of my ability. I tried to also explain some of my reasoning in this chapter, if that doesn't work, I'll try to address it more clearly in a note next time. If you guys see something I missed, please let me know. I'm going to post a five part post Avengers story up on the Avengers section, and it will have a chapter on a Thor and Jane reunion. It will have some spoilers to the final end of this fic, but it's just going to be a closure sort of story, as the film left a lot of questions. That being said, AVENGERS WAS FREAKING AWESOME!_

_Again, sorry for the wait and please continue to let me know what you think!_

_Thanks for all the reviews guys, I love hearing from you!_

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Chapter 31:** Gossip and Tea

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Jane drifted back into consciousness gradually. She became aware of birds singing just outside her window, and the feeling of warm sheets tucked around her like a cocoon. She stretched, noting sadly that she was no longer on a small cot in a glorified closet with Thor, but rather back in the massive bed in her Avenger's chambers. By herself. She searched, eyes closed, halfheartedly for him as though he might miraculously appear, but he didn't. Jane flopped over after creaking one eye blearily open at the large floor length window through which streamed bright morning light.

It was much too ridiculously early to be up. She mashed her face back into her pillow, wondering if she could catch back up to the Sand Man for another dose of knockout dust.

"Oh no you don't."

Something rough, pointy, and very uncomfortable jabbed her right in the butt.

"Ouch!" Jane jackknifed off of the bed in surprise, landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

She squeaked when she realized the blankets had tangled her ankles with the strength of a bear trap. She tried to free herself, fumbling with the covers on the hard cold wood floor. She gave up and stared up at the ceiling, not entirely sure how she'd gotten there. Darcy's face, expression twisted into a pinched an angry expression, appeared right above her.

"You almost died!" Darcy hissed.

Jane massaged the spot where the deranged courtier had stabbed her and winced. "I know, I was there. _Why_ did you wake me up?"

Darcy dropped the pokin' stick and snatched up a pillow. "Jane Foster YOU SCARED ME TO DEATH."

"Darcy," Jane said slowly, raising her hands, "The last time you initiated a pillow battle, I beat you square."

"I am not above beating a wounded girl to claim a win," Darcy sniffed.

"Why, may I ask?"

"Because I'm your friend and you were almost a Sif pin cushion, and I was scared, and-"

"Darcy!"

Darcy glared at her and then, finding no words to properly express her feelings, bopped Jane upside the head with the pillow.

Jane glowered at her and rubbed her noggin. "Hey! It is _on_ now!"

Jane grabbed a pillow but Darcy pinned her down and began beating her. "I" _Thwack_. "Thought" _Thwack_. "Sif" _Thwack_. "Was" _ThwacK_. "Gonna friggan KILL you!" _Thwack, thwack_.

"Ack!" Jane spluttered, though a mouthful of feathers.

Darcy pointed her pillow at Jane. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, got it?"

"I'll try," Jane said, picking feathers out of her hair, "It's actually a miracle she _didn't_ kill me. I didn't exactly do it on purpose, though. Stuff just kind of happens to me."

Darcy kind of deflated, and all of the stressed out anger left her in an inaudible _woosh_. She raked a hand through her auburn curls and collapsed to sit on the end of the bed.

Darcy sighed. "You're not kidding. I think you may have an invisible L.E.D. flashing sign with rotating sparklers above your head that says 'TARGET'. Attempt to victimize me. I wonder if we made a mistake, trying to do this whole superhero thing."

"Hey!" Jane retorted, "I'd get rid of my imaginary bullseye if I could. I regret nothing. Loki was going to come after me anyway, no matter what I did. I knew that by perusing Thor, I was going to be a target for whatever dime store villain was after him. I didn't realize going into this that I was probably going to bite off more than I could chew, but I'm not sorry I did it. I just wanted be stronger, and I wanted to be able to help myself, and not have Thor need to rescue me all the time. I felt like a cookie cut out damsel, and I didn't want that."

Darcy rolled her eyes, but before she could continue the conversation, Jarvis entered, carrying a tray of coffee. Darcy went red, and was unable to look at him when he set the tray down.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

Jarvis looked a little confused, but he handed Darcy her cup and began to check Jane's wrappings. "Lady Frigga did an excellent job of patching you up, Miss Foster. I would advise no strenuous movement, but due to the Asgard's superior medical treatment, you should be fully healed in a few days."

His touch was purely professional, even a little brisk, but when Jane glanced over at Darcy she noticed that her assistant was not touching her coffee, and instead nervously and systematically shredding a corner of Jane's quilt.

That way lay gossip dragons that most definitely needed poking. Time to get rid of the butler.

"Thanks for the coffee Jarvis," Jane said, patting the robot on the shoulder, "but I need to get changed. I've been in this superhero getup too long."

"Ah yes, of course," Jarvis said, clearing his throat, "I'll just go, um, do- something. Elsewhere."

With one last backward glance at Darcy, the usually put together blond butler exited the room looking rather flustered. Jane watched him shut the door gently, a bemused smile quirking at her mouth.

"What was_ that_ about?"

Darcy moved to a new section of blanket, and started shredding again. "I dunno."

"Oh no you don't. I sense delicious drama. Spill."

Darcy threw up her hands, sending blanket bits into the air. "Fine!"

Jane heaved herself out of bed and began unlacing her corset cloak. Darcy fell back across the foot of the bed and gripped her curls. "I honestly don't know what is going on," she muttered miserably, "I- this thing with Jarvis, it just kind of happened. And I don't even know what _'it'_ is."

Jane tossed the corset cloak in a pile on top of her boots. "Phew, that thing needs to be cleaned."

"Well you _have_ been kicking a lot of ass in it lately. People tend to sweat when they do that, and sweat tends to stink."

Jane wrinkled her nose. "Don't I know it. So, about Jarvis, what are you going to do? Maybe you're making things up? No offense, but he _is_ a robot after all."

Darcy sat up, hair tumbling around her face in a auburn waterfall. "I wondered that myself, wondered whether I'm looking into things too closely, because I want it that badly."

Jane tugged on a pair of skinny jeans and one of Darcy's baggy sweaters, then began tugging her boots back on. "I feel like we're in high school again, nit picking over relationships. At least he isn't a jock who dumped yogurt in my hair my freshman year when I told him I had a crush on him."

Darcy hesitated and then mumbled something unintelligible.

Jane dropped her other boot and stared at her assistant. "What? What did he do? He did something, didn't he? That look on your face says you either swallowed an entire lemon, or something really serious happened. I'm willing to bet you didn't eat a lemon."

"Well," Darcy said, voice small, "he _did_ rescue me from that serial killer douchebag I went on a date with."

Jane refrained from admitting that she'd practically bullied him into doing it, and the rest of it was Jarvis's sense of right and wrong kicking in. On no planet was it acceptable to let a young woman get murdered by a serial killer.

"And then, we danced on the roof top after I told him my date was ruined."

Jane squealed. That wasn't bullying at all! Dancing was good.

"And then," Darcy mumbled, "He said he would fix the problem I created, if I wanted him to."

"Well, that last one isn't exactly flowers and dinner," Jane said gently.

"It wasn't that!" Darcy insisted, "It was the way he said it. He got really, really close." Darcy got into Jane's face and laid a hand on her shoulder. "And he said, and I quote, as if I could forget, 'I have averted catastrophes much, much worse than a duel and a bit of confusion. Do you want me to fix this?' He was this close! Like super close! Staring into my eyes, like this!"

Jane crossed her eyes, focusing on Darcy's nose. "That is quite close, and a very romantically Jane Austin-ish thing to say."

Darcy nodded vigorously. "That's what I thought!"

Psylocke chose that moment to enter the room. She took one look at Darcy and Jane, Darcy with her hands on Jane's shoulders and their faces inches away from each other and walked straight back out again, slamming the door behind her.

"I don't want to know!" Psylocke shouted through the door, "And I won't even ask! But Jane, you are the one of the freaking ambassadors to Asgard so dress like it. Get rid of the damn sweater! You look homeless!"

Jane looked down at her sweater and plucked at it. "What's wrong with being comfortable?"

Darcy sniffed. "She just can't appreciate good knitting."

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><p>.x.<p>

Thor found Sif sitting in her old room, staring out the window. She had changed out of her court clothes and was wearing her old armor. Her dark hair framed her pale face, and her eyes were large and sad as she looked out the window at the expanse the city beneath her.

"I moved out your room," she said, breaking the silence. She didn't look at him.

"I saw," Thor said quietly.

"Why couldn't you have given us a chance," Sif asked, brokenly, finally turning to face him.

"I did, briefly," Thor admitted, "But I wasn't happy. You and Father both knew this. Jane Foster may have beaten you, but even if she hadn't I would have challenged our union eventually, once the conflict with the Jotuns was over."

"I hope you're happy," Sif said, crossing her arms and going back to looking out the window.

"I_ am_ happy," he said, voice still quiet, "But if I discover that you had something to do with the attack on Jane, I will not be so happy."

Sif stared at him. "How can you think that? You and I both know that I have the warrior's honor!"

"And yet you still tried to sabotage the people of Earth's plea for help, and you tried to keep Jane from me."

"Would you have done any different? I was trying to protect _us_," Sif snapped.

"Yes, I _would_ have done different," Thor said, "And you know it."

"Get out of my room," Sif snarled.

Thor nodded and left without a word.

Sif buried her face in her hands, wondering where she had gone so wrong.

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><p>.x.<p>

Loki and Hel snuck through the halls of Asgard like well dressed bandits.

Mostly Hel did all the work. Loki was content to sit back and watch his kid as she skillfully opened and closed pocket universes as they navigated the castle and changed her shape to foil guards. He was impressed and regretted not for the first time that he had not been present in her life. Odin wasn't a cruel man, he had to grudgingly acknowledge that, but he certainly didn't make it easy on outsiders, whatever his intentions were. Odin and the rest of the court had obviously not known exactly what Hel's true parentage was or she would not still have residency in Asgard. Odin only knew a higher court member had had a dalliance with a shape shifting Jotun, he just didn't know who. If he'd known, Hel would have been quietly disappeared at a young age and no one would have been the wiser.

Hel got them unseen into Odin's throne room, and Loki silently cheered. She was just as skilled as he was at that age; brought back fond memories. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and they melted into the darkness of an alcove. Watching and listening.

Their sneaking paid off. Thor entered a moment later, striding purposefully across the wide empty chamber to kneel at Odin's throne.

The old god raised his head from where it had been propped against his fingertips. "What is it, my son?"

Loki refused to acknowledge the little twinge within him that was saddened at how old and tired his fathe-, the pompous biased baby snatching bastard leader of the Asgard sounded. Hel poked him sharply in the side, and he realized he'd been squeezing her shoulder to the point of near pain.

"My Lord," Thor said, standing, "You are no doubt aware of the Avengers' ambassadors, and their plea for help."

"I am," Odin replied quietly.

"And that Jane beat Sif in combat," Thor added.

Odin frowned. "I must confess I am at a loss as to how that happened."

"Yet it happened," Thor said softly. "Jane is not a warrior, such as Frey or I or yourself, but she has proven her heart and her tenacity. I am not sorry she won."

Odin smiled, a tad sardonically. "No, I suspect that you are not."

"Every moment that you refuse to see them is an insult," Thor said.

Odin sighed. "I have not been refusing to see them. I have been merely taking their measure. I am old, and tired my son. The ordeal with Loki has taught me that I should not so easily meddle in the affairs of other races."

"The humans will die without our help," Thor said, "You _must_ see this!"

"Will they?" Odin asked. "I have been watching them for a long, long time. Much longer than you, my son. I watched them before you fell to Earth and met your Jane. I have watched them over the ages and I have learned one thing: no matter how deep the darkness, against all odds they drag themselves out of the dark and into the light. Nick Fury's Avengers are true heroes however ragtag and untrained they are. They will not let the Earth fall to Loki's machinations without a fight."

"At what price?" Thor asked softly, "I would not see any of them pay it. Not one of them die for our misdeeds."

Odin shrugged. "And that is the way it always is. I have an event planned. I have sent invitations to all the council members and to the people of Asgard. This is not something that you or I alone should decide. Three days from now all of Asgard will have a chance to take the measure of the Avengers' ambassadors, and three days from now all of Asgard will make the decision whether to assist or to let the people of Earth continue as they always have: alone."

A muscle ticked in Thor's jaw, but he nodded. He turned and left, boots echoing in the vaulted throne room. There was work to be done.

Loki rubbed his hands together and turned to Hel. She was watching Odin with a frown on her face.

'Cast a silencing charm,' Loki mouthed.

The side of her face that was not sheathed in rotting flesh pinkened in embarrassing. 'I can't,' she mouthed back, 'I didn't learn that one.'

Loki rolled his eyes and waved his hands, and they were caught in a dampening bubble that would allow them to talk normally without anyone hearing. "How do the humans so aptly put it? You have much to learn, grasshopper," Loki said.

"Whatever," Hel replied, "So teach me. What are we going to do about the Avengers meeting? What happens in three days?"

Loki snorted. "That's one thing the Asgard are good at: getting drunk and eating." He smiled fondly. "I must admit I miss the alcohol; no one could brew like Volstagg. We once got drunk and stole all of Frey and Freya's armor and sent it to Garmr's kennel. It was horrendously funny watching them try to get it back."

Hel snorted. "I remember that one. I was five. Poor Garmr never got over it."

"I have no sympathy for that mutated pooch," Loki said, "It eats people for a living, not a lot of loss there."

"You could be a little nicer," Hel muttered.

"I am Loki, God of Mischief and Destroyer of Worlds. I am not supposed to be nice. Being evil sort of comes with the package."

"Whatever," Hel repeated, exasperated, "What happens in three days, exactly?"

"A party," Loki said rubbing his hands together, "One that we are going to crash. Asgard won't judge the Avengers if they have more pressing matters to think about."

"Uh huh," Hel said, putting her hands on her hips, "And what is your master plan, daddy dearest?"

"We're going to go visit an old friend," Loki murmured, "I expect he will just be_ burning_ to help when we lay out our plan."

"Burning, eh?" Hel said raising an eyebrow. "If I get set on fire, we will have words."

"Psh, last time I met him I barely even got scorched. Fire builds character."

"Suure. One what magical planet would_ that_ ever build character?"

Loki giggled. "A very special one, indeed. Come, fruit of my loins."

"Okay, I don't care if I have been stepped on by the Asgard, bereft of parents for all of my childhood, and cursed to look like a draugr. Call me that again and I will MURDER you. You will not enjoy it."

"Fine. It is still true though."

"And that doesn't make it sound any less creepy."

"I always aim to please. Come, daughter."

"Shut up, Father."

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Sif stalked through the halls of the castle, looking for something to vent on. Understandably, people got out of her way when they saw her coming. She imagined that her face did not look like the pleasant courtly mask it was supposed to be arranged in. Well, that was alright. Maybe someone would be stupid enough to pick a fight with her. She needed to let off some steam.

None of the court was dumb enough, though.

"Cowards," Sif muttered after the fourth person took one look at her, squeaked, and hid.

She went to the communal chambers for the Warriors Three. Maybe Vostagg would arm wrestle her, if she asked nicely.

The room was empty save for Hogun who sat kneeling on a cushion, cradling a delicate steaming cup. Even from across the room Sif could smell the gentle fragrance of the tea he held. Her stomach burned. For some reason, the serenity of the room niggled at her.

"Spar with me," she said.

Hogun raised a brow. "I do not think that wise, my Lady. You are not in your right mind."

"I am no one's Lady," Sif said, hating how her voice caught, "And if you wish to tell me I am not sound of mind, then beat me first."

Hogun sighed. "Very well."

Sif snatched a spear from the wall as he rushed her. Her blood sang. Hogun was fast, faster than she remembered, and that was good. She needed a challenge. He swung his mace and she jerked back, feeling it barely graze her nose. Sif swung her spear in a wide arch, and Hogun had to jump back to keep from being struck. He darted under the long sweep of the spear and gently tapped his mace to her stomach. Sif grunted and kicked out with her foot. He danced away.

"That's one," Hogun called softly.

"You won't get another," Sif retorted.

Hogun said nothing. Instead he darted in and grabbed the shaft of her spear as it came at him. He tapped her thigh with his mace and darted out of range again. "That's two."

"Get back here," Sif snarled, "You're dancing like a damned _goat_."

"If you want me, than catch me," Hogun said, voice still quiet and gentle, even though she was doing to best to try to beat him up, "You and I both know that you are the better warrior."

Sif snarled and rushed him. Hogun leaped lightly over her and tapped his mace into the small of her back. When she turned, furiously, he hooked his foot around hers and tripped her. Sif collapsed to the floor and Hogun kicked her spear out of her reach before crouching, pinning her in place with his knee.

"Get off me," she snapped, struggling.

"Do you know why you lost?" Hogun asked, not moving.

Sif didn't reply, merely redoubled her efforts to throw him off.

"It's the same reason you lost to Jane, my Lady, and it is not because she is more skilled than you."

"Then why?" Sif snapped.

"You have lost sight of what it means to fight. Jane beat you because you are distracted, you do not sleep and you have not eaten, and you are fighting for a man that does not want you. You have not fought a battle, not entered a training ring since you agreed to be Thor's intended. Jane Foster wants what she wants desperately and that single minded desperation, along with her continuous two year training period allowed her to win. You are clouded, distracted, and confused."

"What choice did I have?" Sif cried, "Am I not allowed to show Thor that I care?"

"Yes, anyone would expect nothing less. But this has gone on too long. Too long you have been in the dark, and it's time to wake up, my Lady."

"I told you," Sif said monotonously, "I am no one's Lady. Stop calling me that."

She finally pushed him off and replaced the spear on the wall, not meeting his eyes. Then she left, shoulders drooping, all of her anger gone and only a disheartened exhaustion left in its place.

Hogun watched her leave, a small sad smile ghosting across his face. "I cannot," he murmured to the empty room.

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_To be continued... _


	32. Chapter 32 Nefarious Plots and Endgames

**Author's Note**: _So, everything explained in this chapter. Loki's plot and the end of the world. It's all downhill from here, thanks for all the input and the peeps, it has been an awesome ride! Thanks for all the reviews and support. I appologize for any mistakes, I did a quick scan through the chapter, but I might have missed something. If I did, feel free to point it out._

_ Please read and review!_

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing._

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**Chapter 32: **Nefarious Plots and Endgames

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Loki could practically feel Hel's disapproval burning into his back. He knew that if he turned around, he would see her glower alternating between fixating on him, and the dark sweltering hallway they walked through. The only light came from glints of lava running through the walls, and it cast an eerie glow onto their faces. Loki didn't believe in the traditional human concept of Hell, but he figured that if his revenge scheme went sour he could always bring unsuspecting victims here for extra kicks.

As they walked deeper into the labyrinth it became hotter. A dry stifling heat that sucked up any sweat the body tried to produce.

The heat was annoying, but Loki found that his giddy excitement did not allow for any distractions. So close, he was so close. It had taken a long, long time for his vengeance to come to fruition but here at last, the final piece was nearly on the board. Once that happened, the game would be his.

The tunnel they walked through opened up into a massive cavern. At first glance, it seemed natural, but after a while one noticed that the walls were too uniform. They formed a perfect dome that rose sixty feet in the air. The rock surface gleamed with hints of quartz and mica and obsidian. Thick veins of lava hissed through the rocks and the air shimmered with the heat.

"It's beautiful," Hel said quietly.

"Yes," Loki murmured, "I suppose it is. Too bad though, the heat is too much for a normal human to handle. They'd be roasted alive."

"You don't sound disappointed," Hel remarked.

Loki giggled. "Nope. It would probably be insanely entertaining."

Hel rolled her eyes.

They moved across the massive room towards the black impenetrable darkness of another gaping cavern. Heat and grey fog seeped out, crawling low and sluggish across the rusty dirt floor. The subtle brush of sulfur infused air against Loki's cheek reminded him of breath.

He grinned. Then again, that's probably exactly what it was.

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Jane was freaking out.

For the fourth or fifth time she stopped her round of nervous stress induced pacing in front of the bedrooms floor length mirror to check Darcy's makeup job and try to tug the cloak dress in different directions so that it covered more skin.

"Quit fussing," Darcy shouted at her from behind the closed bathroom door, "You look fine!"

"I'm not fussing."

"Don't lie to me," Darcy said, "I can hear your boots and they always pause in front of the damn mirror."

Jane glanced guiltily down at her boots. Woops. "I was just checking!"

"Hah! My chiffon covered ass, you were just checking. Are you saying my makeup skills suck?"

"No!"

"Then quit fussing!"

Jane sat on her bed and began fiddling with the quilt so she wouldn't fiddle with her clothes or hair. Odin had finally agreed to hear Earth's plea for help. Jane was very grateful for that. Odin had also apparently decided to put their fate to a vote by all of Asgard. It was very democratic of him, and she had not been entirely sure the old god would even side with them in the first place. Still, the change in things made her nervous, especially since it all boiled down to impression and conduct on their part. They had to make the people of Asgard like them.

Hence the dress. Jane loved her cloak dress: to her, it symbolized Thor's feelings and her friend's support. She loved it, but she felt oddly naked and exposed without her armor. Jane had gotten used to hiding behind it; the hood shadowed her face and gave her, while false, a sense of security. Something between her and a frightening new world.

Oh well, at least she was covered. More covered, anyway, then Psylocke had intended. The purple haired ninja had not so subtly offered her a pair of sleek black high heels and a skimpy black dress that could have been used as a dishcloth. Jane glowered at the Jimmy Choos where they sat perched innocently in the corner where she'd thrown them. Fine, she would wear a dress (not the black horror that would have had trouble fitting a Bratz doll, let alone her, but a dress all the same), but she drew the line at the shoes. Jane had absolutely no idea how Natasha and Pepper and Psylocke all navigated around on their sky high heels. And she didn't care. Personally, she felt that should she put them on, she'd probably fall and break a leg or something.

Besides, her boots ended just above her knees, barely brushing the hemline of her dress. Jane's opinion was that the more of her skin covered was always a good solid policy.

Darcy emerged from the bathroom in a floral scented cloud, hair bouncing in thick energetic curls wound up at the nape of her neck.

"I'm ready!"

Jane tugged at her dress again. "You should share whatever you got into to take away your nerves."

Darcy shook her finger at her friend. "Bah. I'm always this confident. You look FINE."

Jane snorted.

"Besides," Darcy added, innocently examining her nails, "I drank it all."

"That might explain your, um, choice of dress," Jane muttered.

Darcy's sleek flapper dress was a poison green chiffon that hugged her ample chest, plumping her assets up until they threatened to spill out. Murky jade colored drops hung from her ears, barely gleaming in the dim light of Jane's bedroom. Darcy checked her appearance in the mirror and gave herself the thumbs up. Jane shook her head, swallowing a grin. Poor Jarvis. And poor Darcy too, if her assistant's attempts to get the usually fastidious and practical Stark butler to embrace his human side failed.

"Jack and Jim approved," Darcy said cheerfully.

Jane rolled her eyes. All liquid courage jokes aside, though, Darcy was a knockout. Jane fought the urge to self-consciously mess with her dress again. Thor had never officially gotten a good look at what she did with his cloak, and now she felt kind of like an idiot. Hopefully he, and Asgard, wouldn't see it as some sort of ginormous faux pas.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Alright guys, moment of truth time," Psylocke called, "Our escorts are here."

"Keep your hair on," Darcy yelled back, "We can't leave until Rhodes finishes his call to Stark anyway, so what's the rush?"

Psylocke grumbled something that both girls decided to ignore.

"Don't worry chief, we got this," Darcy said to Jane in a low voice, holding up a fist.

Jane bumped her knuckles against her friend's. "Let's go, before I lose my nerve and decide to hide under the bed for the rest of the trip."

Darcy slipped on Psylocke's black heels, instantly gaining four inches in the process.

Jane eyed her. "I don't know how I feel about you being taller than me."

"I have a suspicion that I will not remain tall for long," Darcy muttered, "I don't know how Psylocke walks in these things, not to mention kicks ass in them, without breaking every bone in her body."

"I'm just awesome that way," Psylocke said dryly after throwing open the door, "Can we go now?"

Jane gave her cloak dress one last good tug and exited the room. Thor was waiting in the main room, dressed in a gleaming new suit of silver and gold armor, hair pulled in a pony tail with a leather strip. Jane was disappointed to see that he had trimmed his beard down to the barest hint of golden stubble, though the pony tail was exceedingly hot. She couldn't help but imagine him with an eyepatch and his rogueish grin and some pirate tattooes.

The Thunder God was fidgeting and Jane found herself glad to see that she wasn't the only one nervous. He held a silver helmet under one arm, the sweeping metal wings on the sides sticking out from his elbow. Jane walked a few more feet, and then his eyes met hers.

Instantly, all the fear and anxiety left her in a _woosh_. His clear blue eyes caught and held her steady as she walked the last few feet across the room to him, holding her like a life line.

Jane managed a slightly breathless smile and indictated the dress. "What do you think?"

Thor tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind his astrophysicist's ear. "Is that my cloak?"

Jane nodded, turning pink. He was looking at her like she was clad in a Cinderella ballgown made of diamonds rather than a cocktail dress made out of a soldier's cloak that had been sweated in, bled on, and set on fire at one point.

Thor pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Jane had to pretend that she didn't see Psylocke roll her eyes in exasperation. "It fits you well," Thor said, grinning in a way that made Jane's stomach do back flips.

He held his arm out to her and she took it, the metal plates of his armor cool under her fingers. The soldiers that had accompanied Thor formed a line to the door, the resounding click of their boots and the salute of their weapons shaking the small room.

War Machine tromped out of his room, armor less shiny than the soldiers and more battleworn, but much more menacing. "Time to go party, I suppose."

"Everything okay back home?" Beast asked.

War Machine nodded and the Earthlings in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. Thor turned to walk between the lines of soldiers towards the door, Jane keeping pace with him.

"By the way," War Machine called after Jane, "Stark has a message for you."

Jane eyed him warily over her shoulder, hoping the message wouldn't entail something that would cause her to be unable to look Thor in the eye. "Oh yeah?"

"He said to tell you that the new Batman movie was awesome, and that the ending totally-"

"No," Jane cut War Machine off, jabbing her finger at him, "Just because I am a few dimensions away does not give him the right to ruin it for me! Do not enable Stark."

Thor looked bewildered. "Who is this...Batman?"

Jane grinned at him. "One of the best epics my planet has ever come up with."

They left the room, deep in conversation about utility belts, expensive cars, angst fueled vendettas, and the importance of a good English butler.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Loki and Hel stood at the edge of a deep, deep crater. Molten lava bubbled sluggishly inside it, threatening to spill out over the edges. A massive, giant of a man reclined in the crater as though it were a large supersized hot tub rather than a pool of molten lava.

"_I must say I did not expect to see you here again, Asgard Meat._"

The giant's voice was like two continents sliding together. Slow, deep, and grinding.

Loki glanced at his daughter and was slightly startled to see what looked like fear on her face. Hel was pale and he doubted that it had anything at all to do with her affiliation for death. All of her attention was fixed on the fire giant, and she was tensed and ready for flight. Loki turned back to the monster in question, wondering if he would be able to leave Hel behind if a quick getaway was needed. Affection and human ties made a person weak, but he felt connected to Hel in a way that he had not felt connected in a long, long time.

"Surt," Loki said smoothly, as though the giant wasn't thinking about spitting him and eating him like a supersized shish kabob, "I have a business proposition."

"_I make no deals with Meat,_" the giant rumbled.

"Ah, I think you will. I have something you want."

"_What is it that I want, Meat_?"

"Assist me and I will hand you Frey of Asgard on a silver platter. I will even provide the marinade."

Surt had been studying Hel with a stare that one usually applied to baked pineapple sugar glazed ham slices topped with maraschino cherries, but now his bottomless orange gaze slid back to Loki. "_Frey_?"

Loki had no idea what Frey had done to ever incur the Fire Giant's ire but the effect was instantaneous, like letting loose a pheasant in front of a hound. Loki did not grin in triumph, but he wanted to. Once he mentioned Frey's name, he had the giant well in hand. Surt would be his to command.

"I will give you Frey," Loki said, "In return, you will give me the forces needed to conquer Earth."

Surt mulled this over. "_What is your plan, Meat_?"

Loki glanced at Hel and smiled. "Revenge, of course. It has always been about revenge. I confess that my relationship with my brother has always been a bit tenuous, but now I need to act on it. In my youth, I created a creature, after one of our fights. Mother and Father have always loved Thor best, and so this creature is designed to kill him and destroy all he cares for. I shall bring Ragnarok to Asgard's doorstep."

Hel tilted her head to the side. "This is the first I've heard of it. What kind of creature?"

Loki giggled. "A snake the size of the Asgard palace of course, with a nice venom cocktail just for my brother."

Hel rolled her eyes. "Thor hates snakes, doesn't he?"

"Absolutely hates them," Loki said promptly, "Our Asgard Prince is such a perfect hero, but he runs like a little girl if you put a snake in his sheets."

"_I have no patience for revenge, Meat_," Surt rumbled, reminding them both of his presence.

"My daughter has been opening doorways to Earth for some time now, steadily weakening the barriers between Helheim and Earth. I have always dreamed of conquering Earth, enslaving the species my Father is so in love with. Once the barrier is weakened enough that they cannot close it, we will send troops through along with torrents of the dead to bring the Earthlings to heel. The ones that do not immediately perish with serve as slaves on my new Earth."

"_This is the Meat's offspring_?" Surt surged forward to get a closer look at Hel, and lava slopped out of the edge of the crater.

Hel squeaked in alarm.

Loki snapped his fingers, gaining the giant's attention again. Surt glared at him.

"I have a reseeding vessel that is nearing Earth's solar system. I have the Cosmic Cube, enough power to wake Jormungandr and to power the reseeding vessel. Fenrir will demolish the planet and remake it in my image after Jormungandr has taken care of Thor and his precious Earthlings."

Surt grinned slowly, and Loki frowned. "Why are you grinning like that?"

"_Because I know a secret you do not, Meat_."

"And what is that?" Loki snapped, annoyed.

"_You did not create your accomplishments on your own. Demolishing Earth will prove difficult, should your old accomplice disagree."_

Loki gritted his teeth. Now he knew where Odin had banished Hel's mother. Earth, of course it would have been Earth. Why had he not foreseen this? Odin had an unholy obsession with Earth, like his misbegotten perfect pants son.

"What's he talking about?" Hel asked, looking back and forth from Surt to her father.

"_I have heard the rumors_," Surt said lazily, sloshing back in his pool, "_Angrboda calls herself the SkinWalker, culling Earthlings for their flesh. You want Earth, and my help, Meat, you will need to deal with her first_."

"Who's Angrboda? Who's the SkinWalker?" Hel asked, voice climbing. "What is going on?"

Loki didn't answer and whirled from Surt's chamber, the giant's harsh grating laughter following him out. It looked like he'd been gotten the best of, and that would not fly. Surt was going to pay. Once he had outlived his usefulness, Loki would take his revenge with Muspelheim along with Midgard.

Angrboda. Now that was a name Loki had not heard in a long time. He smiled. Perhaps a reunion would not be so bad after all.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued..._


	33. Chapter 33 Ragnarok Begins

_**Author's Note:** _WARNING:_ Please note that this chapter will contain sexytime._

_I waffled about whether to post it like it is. I know I changed the rating on this fic just for that reason, but ffnet has purged several of my favorite stories and like a fool I didn't save them. I don't want this one to go the same way. So, sorry to those who were looking forward to explicit-ish sexytimeawesomeness. It'll still be there, just very, very watered down. Hopefully it won't get me deleted. Dear god some of this is insanely cheesy. I may have to post a cheesiness warning. It's never a good sign when your own writing makes you cringe._

_Please read and review, sorry for the wait!_

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing._

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**Chapter 33: **Ragnarok Begins

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Jane thought she was going to be sick. She had thought defending her dissertation in front of the university board of science was bad, but this took the cake.

Walking into the grand hall where all of Asgard stood, ready to weigh in on Earth's future, was the hardest thing she had ever done. Thor's hand in hers was warm and firm. She thought he was a saint for not complaining about how cold and clammy her own was.

The noise of light conversation hummed in the Asgard grand hall like the drone of thousands of bees. It wavered when the Earth emissaries entered. Jane didn't have to glance behind her to know that the Avengers cut an impressive swath through the crowed.

Psylocke had forgone her leather trench coat in order to show off the glaringly purple of her skin-tight body armor. The brilliant crimson sash around her waist matched and drew attention to the stark tattoo on her face. Beast walked next to her. He'd left behind his spectacles and had washed and brushed his bright blue fur within an inch of its life. He had also decided to lose the yellow shorts in favor of the X-men's black reinforced body armor emblazoned with a small round black pin with a gold X on his chest. Jarvis was less striking in his Armani suit and black leather briefcase, but he still was quite impressive. Darcy followed just behind him in a matching tailored jacket that matched his, and her violent green dress that showed off her generous curves to their best advantage. War Machine brought up the tail end of the party. Jane and Darcy had taken turns at polishing his armor, scouring the combat beaten surface with virtually gallons of polish until it gleamed.

At the time Jane had wondered why the Asgard had so much of what was essentially jewelry cleaner, but looking around at all of the shiny armored Vikings surrounding them she had a fair idea why.

Thor led her across the massive room to the foot of Odin's throne. Sif stood with Freya and the Warrior's Three off to the side, and Jane chanced a glance at her. Sif didn't smile at her, but she didn't glower either. Jane felt rather shabby in her dress compared to the elegant Asgard woman who was resplendent in a shimmering white sheath gown.

Oh well. The thing Sif was wearing would probably be an absolute bitch to wash; probably bypassing being squelched around in the bathtub with Woolite and heading straight to dry-cleaning territory. That way lay dragons. Jane was of the opinion that if she couldn't toss an outfit into the washing machine with a bunch of random stuff without having it come out shrunken or stained, than it had no business being in her closet. There was a reason she owned pretty much only jeans and t-shirts.

Thor knelt at the foot of the throne, drawing Jane down with him. The rest of the Avengers followed suite. Jane felt awkward there on her knees. She'd never kneeled to anyone, and the uncomfortable feeling that accompanied it rankled at her. War Machine, Psylocke, and Beast were some of the strongest people she knew. She wondered how they felt about it. She knew without a doubt Darcy was hating it, and was almost surprised when there was nary a grumble from her not so diminutive assistant.

Odin held up his hands for silence and the hum of chatter immediately ceased. It was almost eerily quiet.

"I extend a warm welcome to our honored guests on behalf of all of Asgard," he called. His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the strength it carried. There was absolutely no doubt that this man had led one of the Universe's most powerful races for eons.

"Mingle," he said, "Eat, drink, be merry. The fate of Earth is not one I can in fairness decide alone. I leave it to you Asgard. Choose wisely."

_'Well, that was unerringly blunt_,' Jane thought, unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

As if sensing her dour thoughts, Thor pressed a kiss to her temple. "Courage, _minn ast_," he whispered.

Odin's dismissal seemed to be a cue. The formal air rapidly dissipated and the noise of chatter resumed with a vengeance. Thor motioned the group closer. They all got into a huddle.

"What happens now?" Jarvis asked. The robot seemed a tad put out that he was not going to get to show off his superior machine cognitive abilities.

Thor laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Now, you blend, my friends. Get drunk, get in a fight. Show Asgard that you're just like them and that they can't write you off so easily."

Darcy brightened. "Fighting, not so much, but the rest I can handle."

Jarvis looked annoyed. "So I shouldn't have spent the last few months preparing my presentation?"

"I think essentially the idea here is yes, but you just have to get hammered on Viking ale and punch a few people while you give it," Psylocke explained.

"Ah." Jarvis did not look convinced. "I am not certain as to the structural durability of my chassis. It was made out of one of Stark's old suit models, but there was a reason it didn't make the final cut."

"We will keep an eye on you," Beast reassured him, "At the very least your program is backed up, is it not? We can always put you back together again if there is any overzealous dismembering."

"They won't let it come to that," Darcy said fiercely, "Right?"

Beast coughed. "Of course."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Loki was just beginning to think that he wasn't going to have to face Hel's ire after all. She hadn't said a word since they'd left Muspelheim via the Cosmic Cube's power. Now, as they stood in the bowels of Asgard listening to the faint noise of the revelry going on above, he breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. He did so hate confrontation.

The Trickster headed for the staircase. Time to see what brother dearest was up to.

There was a brief flash of power, the only warning Loki got. He thanked his lucky stars for his self preservation instincts as one of Hel's zombies swung a heavy claymore right through where he'd been standing a second before.

Loki whirled to face his daughter, calling up his own magic. Hel faced him, fists clenched tight at her side, and the fleshy half of her face was tinged pink in anger.

"Who is Angrboda?" Hel hissed, "What is going on? Have you betrayed me?" Her zombie raised his sword for another strike.

"It isn't important," Loki said, and lazily zapped the zombie into a little pile of green ash with a flick of his finger.

Hel didn't say anything but her one eye narrowed. Thick fog boiled out around her and more zombies shambled out of it to stand around her, raising their mismatched weapons.

"Odin is no fool," Loki said, glancing at the ceiling, "If he hasn't sensed portals to Helheim opening in his basement, he will soon."

"Then I suppose you'd better tell me what is going on, _Father_," Hel snapped. "Before he gets down here and interrupts."

Loki gritted his teeth. She was just going to keep opening portals and summoning more dead souls until he gave in. "Fine. Close the portal and we'll talk."

The fog swallowed up the zombies and dispersed. They were alone. Hel crossed her arms and glared at him. "Well?"

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

"I suggest we move this conversation to a safer venue," Loki said, eyeing the door.

Hel gritted her teeth. "Fine."

They got out of sight just in time. A platoon of Asgard's elite guard came through the door, proving that Odin had indeed sensed something amiss. Loki and Hel watched as the soldiers carefully checked every nook and cranny for intruders. It was lucky he was so very good at what he did, deceiving people, or they would have been found for sure. They watched the soldiers mill around for a bit, before quietly opening a pathway into another part of the castle. Odin wouldn't be able to sense such a minor wormhole, and it would get them to the action faster.

"Who's Angrboda?" Hel asked quietly.

Loki glanced down at her walking next to him, and sighed. Hel, for all that she was terrifying and powerful, was still a child. Her insecurity and unease showed on her face and it niggled at him.

For a moment he was confused.

What were these _parental_ feelings roiling around in his gut like drunken butterflies? Ugh, they felt awful. At any rate, he was going to have to come clean. Hel wasn't going to help him with his campaign unless she got answers, and he needed her zombie army as bullet meat for the war with Earth.

"I met Angrboda a long time ago, in Asgard, believe it or not. She was a scientist studying the fusion of biology and technology. Brilliant woman, her thirst for knowledge was unparalleled. About that time a string of murders occurred: Asgard women found in their homes, skinned alive." Loki glanced at Hel to see how she was absorbing the information, but her face stayed blank. He continued. "I didn't think much of it all, the murders weren't very imaginative and while Angrboda's research was interesting I didn't have cause to approach her."

Loki didn't tell Hel about the occasional flings he had with the mysterious scientist during Asgard parties, or the fact that the woman's skin had always smelled and tasted faintly of frost. He thought it best not to mention the inexplicable draw he'd felt to her, and was still debating whether or not to tell Hel that she was the resulting product of that draw.

"Then," Loki said lightly, "I found her skinning the Vanir Ambassador's wife after a feast. I figured out what she was. A Jotun, like me. She didn't need the skin of her victim to change her shape, she just liked the killing. I used what I'd seen to gain access to her labs, and, to make a long story short, we built Fenrir and Jormungandr together."_ And you,_ he added silently.

"What are Fenrir and Jormungandr, exactly, besides just vengeance against your brother?" Hel asked.

"Angrboda and I have always had our sights on Earth, albeit for various reasons. Striking at Earth is the best way to strike at my brother and father, but Angrboda wants to rule it. She wants an empire she can call her own, a place where she belongs."

Hel frowned. "Why didn't she just go back to Jotunheim?"

Loki picked at the edge of his sleeve cuff, unraveling a stray green thread. This conversation was becoming more personal than he had intended. Best to tread lightly. "I suspect because she is a unique creature, like me. We are Jotuns, but we can change our shape and reflect the people around us. We're smaller than normal Jotuns, more slight, as a result of our powers. She would not fit in well in Jotunheim."

"So, Jormungandr and Fenrir," Hel prodded.

"Ah yes. Fenrir is a reseeding vessel Angrboda and I designed. It's purpose is to remake Midgard into a new world, one poisonous to Asgard and the Aesir in particular. Jormungandr is it's protection and also my brother's downfall."

"You did mention that your brother hates snakes." Hel's brow was furrowed, clearly trying to work out where she fit into it all.

Loki prayed that Hel wouldn't work it out. It would complicate things far more than he was willing to deal with.

"Angrboda...is my mother, isn't she?" Hel said quietly after a while.

Odin's gnarly balls, Loki wanted to explode something. "Yes," he said simply.

"Then you still have my allegiance," Hel decided, "I want to see how this will play out, and- I want to meet my mother."

"You will." Loki murmured. There wasn't any avoiding it.

He could foresee a very messy confrontation indeed.

* * *

><p><em>.X.<em>

Darcy stood half hidden next to a large golden pillar, watching the madness unfolding in front of her.

This was not at all what she'd expected, and she knew none of the rest of the team had anticipated it either. They had all prepared for some huge political debate. Darcy likened it to petitioning to joining the UN. She had been expecting very stiff, very formal, maybe their Asgard hosts channeling elves from LOTR.

The Asgard idea of a 'friendly meeting of political allies' was almost the exact opposite.

She had been to some wild parties in her day, but the Asgard gala took the cake. The Asgard had shed their aloof otherworldly demeanor and their Viking roots shone brightly through.

Half of them were fighting, half of them were drinking, and some were doing both at the exact same time. She felt like she'd have been better off wearing Kevlar and a mouth guard rather than a cocktail dress and heels. Liquid courage would probably do her a world of good, but she felt like she'd never make it to the Asgard equivalent of a bar in one piece. Someone would either beat her to death or throw an ale mug at her head and brain her.

"Are you alright?"

She jumped. Darcy turned to find that Jarvis had materialized next to her, watching the 'festivities' with a rather perplexed expression. She smiled and poked him in the side. "I think that I should be asking you that instead. What put that look on your face?"

He looked a little morose. "All that preparation, and it appears as though it will not be a well argued discussion that will win the day. Rather, who can do the most shots, or Viking equivalent therein."

"Cheer up," she said, "At least I get to help. Believe it or not, before I met Jane, that is precisely what I spent my college career doing."

Jarvis cocked his head, a small smile on his face. "And after you met Dr. Foster?"

Darcy shook her head and chuckled. "She made me work. I'm actually graduating next semester with a Masters in Political Science- if we don't end up getting murdered by Loki anyway."

"Well," Jarvis bowed and offered her his hand, "Congratulations. I believe that propriety asks that I buy the lady a congratulatory drink. If the lady is willing?"

Darcy giggled and took his hand. "The lady is indeed willing, good sir."

She firmly squashed the little voice at the back of her head that she was taking advantage of Jarvis, that maybe he wasn't seeing her feelings for what they were. For now she was going to have fun, and damn the consequences. It was certainly an issue that was going to have to be dealt with in the future though. She needed to talk to Stark, and Jarvis himself, before she allowed her heart to jump to any conclusions.

Jarvis led her across the wide room towards the large golden Asgard equivalent of ale kegs. It was certainly an adventure simply crossing the room.

Off to her left, some hulking warrior trussed up in a shaggy fur skin cloak that made him look like a Wampa with a golden helmet had challenged Beast to an arm wrestling match. Beast won in a matter of seconds, someone shouted, and then a table flew across the room to shatter against a wall. A brawl erupted, with Beast smack in the middle.

"We should help him!" Darcy put her mouth close to Jarvis's ear and shouted in order to be heard above the chaos.

He shook his head. "Look closer."

Darcy looked. Beast had put one of his attackers into a headlock, forcing the poor man's face into his vivid blue armpit while he held another at bay with one hand. War Machine erupted out of a dog pile of shouting Asgard Vikings, pulling them off of his shoulders and back. They gave as good as they got. Several of the Asgard warrior's weapons dented War Machine's armor, and it suddenly occurred to Darcy that maybe they were going easy on their Midgard guests.

She wasn't sure if that was a good sign, or a bad one.

They walked past the brawlers and Darcy initially felt bad for leaving until she saw Psylocke launch several pink plasma bolts at the pile, breaking things up long enough for War Machine and Beast to get back to back. Darcy opened her mouth and tugged on Jarvis's arm.

"C'mon, we can't just-"she stopped.

Psylocke, normally as cuddly as battery acid, was grinning like a kid on Christmas. Darcy realized with a startled jolt that the purple haired ninja was having _fun_. She was having a blast, and judging from the raucous laughter their Asgard opponents were having just as much of a good time.

Darcy decided that they didn't need any help from her, so she quit plucking at Jarvis's arm.

Behind her, an Asgard warrior offered Psylocke a drink.

Darcy smothered a grin when the mutant replied with a curt "I don't drink."

She wished she could have seen his face. The poor warrior probably wouldn't know what to make of a tiny ninja that shot plasma bolts with her mind, could break a slab of concrete with the side of her hand, and only drank herbal tea.

The Asgard ale kegs were massive, rising about twenty feet off of the ground. They were a gleaming gold, like much of the rest of the room, and were embossed with Skoll and Hati, mystical Norse wolves, as they chased the sun and the moon round and round the keg.

A man with blue eyes, black hair, and a wicked smile was serving up the ale. Darcy couldn't really explain it, but for some reason she instantly took a dislike to him.

Nonetheless she allowed Jarvis to guide her up to him, though her hand did tighten on the butler's arm. If Jarvis noticed her sudden misgivings, he didn't say anything. His hand squeezed hers and she couldn't stop a blush that stained her cheeks and neck.

"Well well well," the man said, sweeping them an elegant bow, "If it isn't the Midgardians. Balder's the name. What can I do you for?"

"I owe the lady a drink," Jarvis said smoothly.

Balder rested his forearms on the keg spigot and gave Darcy a saucy grin. "I'm not sure the lady can handle it- this is strong stuff."

Darcy's sudden hatred of Balder grew, and her smart mouth got the best of her. "Speaking from experience, are you? If you spent less time on your hair you'd probably be able to handle it yourself. Top me off, princess, I don't have all day."

Balder flushed red and the Asgardians who overheard them burst out laughing. They laughed harder when Balder self consciously smoothed down his dark hair.

"How bout we make a wager," he snapped.

Darcy crossed her arms and glared at him. "Name it, Fabio."

Balder looked confused, but Jarvis chuckled. "Fabio is a Midgard icon known for his ridiculously luscious locks," Jarvis explained helpfully, "She made a joke about you."

"I got that," Balder growled.

Darcy giggled.

"My wager is this: If you lose, pretty little wench, you'll serve me for the remainder of your stay in Asgard."

Darcy's betting nature won out over her good sense. "Pffff, you're on! And if I win you campaign for the Avengers- you will be their bitch. Tea, cookies, bullet meat, whatever."

Balder rolled his eyes with a muttered "yeah that'll never happen" and held out his hand. Darcy shook it.

"You have yourself an accord, Midgardian." He rolled his eyes again, obviously sure of his victory.

Darcy smirked. She was little, but she was also the poster child for the stereotypical bad college kid: Balder had nothing on her.

The ever growing group of the two combatants and their onlookers moved to a table that was still standing. Darcy sat at one end, Balder at the other. Frey materialized out of the crowd, and crossed huge tattooed forearms across his barrel like chest.

"Ugh, Frey, go lurk somewhere else. Why must you always appear at the most inopportune moments?" Balder groaned.

Frey smacked the back of his head. "Making sure you play fair, goat breath. First person to fall out of their chair loses."

Darcy tugged on Jarvis's sleeve, and the blond butler bent his tall frame so that her mouth was level with his ear. "I hope you stop things if I start to poison myself."

Jarvis looked slightly worried as he looked back at her, but he nodded. "I will monitor your vitals accordingly. I will not let you come to harm, Miss Darcy."

She squelched the butterflies in her stomach. Jarvis really was insanely good looking, and that worried expression on his face made her want to jump him and do terrible things to him. Darcy turned back to Balder and showed the annoying Norse God her teeth in an attempt to mimic Natasha's feral grin.

"It is _on_ like Donkey Kong. Let's do this," she shouted.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Jane and Thor watched Darcy from their vantage point across the room. Jane felt odd without the leather armor that Stark and Pepper had fashioned for her. She knew the dress made from Thor's cloak had its own protective capabilities, but the cloak armor had become like a second skin.

It was weird without it.

"I hope Darcy knows what she's getting into," Jane murmured, wanting to go rescue her assistant.

Thor kissed her temple. "I believe Balder's better judgment is swayed by your friends…assets. Even Indun could drink Balder under the table."

"So you're saying that Balder's a lightweight? That's good," Jane growled, "Than man gives me the heebie jeebies. I hope he's unconscious in his own puke by the end of the night." She glanced at Thor, just realizing that she'd badmouthed one of his countrymen. "I mean, I hope Darcy wins."

Thor laughed and gently tugged on a lock of her hair. "It is alright. Balder does not have many true friends because of his abrasive personality. You are not alone in your thoughts."

A tankard flew over their heads to shatter against the wall.

Jane picked shards of porcelain out of her hair and grimaced. "Is there anywhere we can talk without getting maimed?"

Thor led her down a passageway, and the noise of the revelry gradually dwindled.

"Phew, that's better. You know, this is not exactly what I had in mind." Jane was happy walking with him. Her arm and side brushed lightly against his as they walked.

The corridor they were in had a high vaulted ceiling. The only light came from torches in metal sconces hanging from the pillars supporting the ceiling. Between the pillars was open air, displaying the sparkling firefly like beauty of Asgard at night.

They took a path down to the water that surrounded the city. Grey sand that glinted like diamonds slid under their boots, and Jane felt rather tiny under the vast extent of the cosmos dancing above them. The lap of the waves was soothing and rhythmic though, especially after the chaos that they'd just escaped.

"I think that is what my Father intended, in all honesty," Thor said after a while, "He feels a kinship to Midgard, but the mess with my brother and with the Jotuns has shaken him. He thinks of Asgard first and foremost, all else comes later. He wanted Asgard to make the decision for Midgard's fate. It was the only choice I think he could live with."

"What about you?" Jane asked curiously, "What is your choice?" The thought had been niggling at her for some time now. She knew that Thor cared for her, loved her even, and Earth, but he also had a duty to his own people. She wouldn't force him to choose, she couldn't, but she was curious as to how he felt.

"You," Thor said softly, turning to face her.

Jane felt like someone had taken an invisible carpet she was standing on and yanked it out from under her feet. Her insides were exploding with fireworks, and her heart felt like it'd beat right out of her chest.

"I meant what I said Jane, when I had hoped that I'd live out my days with you as a mortal man. Earth became my home, and you and the rest of the team my family. You welcomed, sheltered, and aided me, even when it hurt you to do so. You are the most courageous and brilliant woman I have ever known. I love you Jane Foster, and I will follow you unto death," Thor said. His voice had gone all funny and guttural.

Jane smiled and was surprised to find her face suspiciously wet. "I don't know about the dying part, but I would like that very much. You're stuck with me Thor, for good."

Thor reached into his armor and pulled out a thin, wide wooden box. He seemed insanely nervous all of a sudden, and his large hands trembled as he held the box out to Jane.

She took it, confused. "Is this for me?"

Thor, in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness, shoved his hands into his pockets. "Open it."

Jane opened it. Inside the box lay a heavy collar necklace made of dark twisted gold rope. The rope formed a two headed snake, each snake head with a ruby the size of her thumb nail in its mouth. She ran a hand over the necklace, the metal quickly warming to her touch.

Jane looked back up at Thor to find him watching her anxiously.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, "Why are you giving me this?"

"Because-" he stopped, took a deep breath, and then powered through what he was waffling about saying. "Because even though I'm _me_ again, I want to stay with you Jane."

"By 'me' you mean all powerful Thunder Dude?" Jane asked smiling.

He nodded. "The necklace has been passed down in my family. My father gave it to my mother eons ago when he asked her to love him, and now I'm giving it to you." Thor cleared his throat and caught her hands, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Would you stay with me, Jane, as my companion in life? The warrior at my back, and the partner at my side?"

Jane nodded furiously, feeling strangely near actual tears. "Yes, dear god yes."

She threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight. Thor's arms came around her holding her gently. She felt like the fragile shell of her body could barely contain the joy that threatened to overflow in her. She knew they were going to have issues, problems in the future that would crop up, but for the first time since they'd started this _thing_ between them, she finally felt certain and content. There were no doubts, none.

She tilted her head to press her lips to his. Jane explored the seam of his mouth, moving slowly, lazily, enjoying the way his stubble made her lips tingle. It wasn't slow for long though, Jane was starving for him and he kissed her back just as hard.

Thor's hands curled around her bottom, lifting her up so she could curl her legs around his waist. Jane marveled at the immense strength in him. She knew she was no ninety pound runway model, yet he held her like she weighed no more than a few feathers.

"Hey," she whispered, "Your armor is pinching me. You should get rid of it."

"It is _not_," Thor whispered back. "I am being most careful to not squeeze you too hard, I-" he stopped at seeing the wicked grin spread across her face. "Oh, you are not serious, are you?"

Jane grinned wider and tugged at the laces hidden under his armor. "Kind of. Which admission will get you out of it?"

Thor took a few steps back, plopping down onto a rock and settling her snugly into his lap. "Either, dear heart."

Thor appeared to have gotten rid of any of his misgivings about keeping up with old world traditions. In the end they made do with getting rid of as few things as possible. It was a gorgeous night, but there was a cool wind carried in along with the waves that made goose bumps rise on heated skin. Jane didn't mind. Thor was- god, the man was everywhere at once. She could barely think straight, only that he couldn't stop.

That didn't seem to matter though, her body knew exactly how to operate without complex direction from her brain. She loosened his armor just enough to gain access to warm skin. Jane's hands slid up his chest to dig into his hair while her mouth kissed and nibbled every bit of his exposed skin that she could reach.

Thor's hands curled around her bottom and lifted her. "Last chance, _minn ast._ Are you sure?"

Jane was beyond coherent speech and wriggled impatiently in his hands. "Why-, you- don't _stop_, GAH!"

He chuckled, murmured something her addled brain couldn't make sense of –it sounded nice though, and suddenly she was deliciously full. He gave her a moment to get used to him, and then they were moving, racing towards the finish like someone kept moving the red ribbon back.

Occasionally cold spray from a random wave would spatter her back, and when it did she would arch in surprise, driving him deeper. She could tell from the way he shook that he was close, and suddenly so was she. He hit that spot inside her, and Jane's insides wound into a knot and her brain exploded.

She threw back her head screamed, drowning out his quiet moan that he muffled against her shoulder.

Afterward Jane ran her hand along his chest, lazily exploring the texture of his smooth skin. "What is it with all of our shenanigans happening near water? I think beaches might be a bad influence."

"Mmm." Thor's eyes were half closed and he tugged her closer. "Then when everything is all said and done, I think we should find a more accommodating beach and never leave."

She snuggled closer, tucking her nose into his chest. Thor tugged his cloak out of its fastenings and wrapped it around them both.

"I'm going to hold you to that," she murmured. "Some obscure island in the South Pacific."

He smiled into her hair. "Deal."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

The game ended when Balder fell off of his chair with a crash, hitting the marble floor like a sack of jello. The Asgard cheered loudly, pushing food and more alcohol at Darcy, who very carefully and unsteadily stood up. The floor gave an unsettling lurch when she did and she was very glad when Jarvis's arm slid around her waist, most likely keeping her from doing a very unattractive face plant.

"Jarvis, please tell the floor to quit moving," Darcy whispered. She felt like she was going to be sick, and Psylocke's borrowed high heels weren't helping things any.

Jarvis cocked his head. "I think it would be best if you went back to your room and I made you a strong coffee."

"I think that would be best too."

He neatly swung her into his arms and Darcy put her face into his lapel, because now the entire room was doing a complicated tango that made her brain throb.

"What's wrong with her?"

Darcy didn't look up at the sound of Psylocke's voice. Instead she concentrated hard on not throwing up all over Jarvis's suit.

"She won a wager," Jarvis said promptly.

"Oh?" Psylocke sounded vaguely interested. "What did she win?"

"The implicit support of that gentleman over there." Darcy felt Jarvis gesture with his shoulder, and she clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. _You will not throw up on the cute boy, you will not throw up on the cute boy._

Psylocke snorted. "What, the dude who's passed out under the table in a puddle of his own puke?"

"…Yes."

She sighed. "Awesome. Take our brave heroine for a cold shower and a cup of coffee."

Darcy felt Jarvis bow politely, and then she decided that it would be best for her dignity if she just passed out. There were only so many hits on her character she could take in one night.

"Wake me up when we get there," she muttered.

"As you wish, Miss Darcy."

"And quit that 'Westley' crap, that's cheating. You're cute and sweet enough as it is. Stop being so nice, I can't handle any more Princess Bride references," she slurred, and promptly passed out.

She missed the surprised look on his face and the blush that tinged his cheeks, along with the small pleased smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Loki rested his arms on the marble surface of a balcony that overlooked the Asgard revelry in the main throne room. He was alone, shrouded in shadow. Thor and his human fling had left some time ago, and Loki shuddered to think of what they could be up to now. Whatever. It didn't matter now, nothing would matter in a few minutes.

Hel was off implementing the next stage of the plan and Loki had made sure that he had prime viewing for when Asgard came crashing to its knees. He wanted to be able to see the look on Odin's face when his empire started to crumble.

The skin on the back of his neck crawled and he had the sudden impression that he was being watched. Loki whirled.

The Norns stood behind him, watching him silently with slack expressions and hollowed, fathomless eyes. It was like being stared at by a fish, and it made him want to either set them on fire or run away screaming.

Loki did neither. Instead he squelched his murderous eclectic instincts and offered them what he hoped was a winning smile. They were a trio of powerful and old witches that had been in the midst of his people for as long as anyone could remember. Loki felt he could safely say that he'd grown past their power and expertise, but he couldn't afford to start a war with them. Not now. He could kill them but it would be messy and loud, and Odin would know that his greatest mistake was back in Asgard wrecking havoc.

"What can I do for you ladies?" Loki asked. "Coffee? Tea? The keys to the Universe?"

The Norns just watched him. Finally the youngest one cocked her head. "How soon are your plans-"

"-to be completed?" the oldest one finished.

Loki winced inwardly. He'd forgotten that they finished each other's sentences, and just how creepy it was. The Norns seemed to be weirdly omniscient, but they were just old women, and Loki had thought he had been quiet enough to hide his doings from him.

That was apparently not the case. Now, should he appear naïve and risk them trying to stop him, he wondered, or should he play the honest card?

"Things are in motion," he said, going for obscure but truthful. "And it is much too late to stop them," he added, just in case the Norns were considering doing just that.

The Norns nodded and to his complete surprise they turned to leave.

Loki wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he had to know. "Why aren't you stopping me?" he asked.

The middle one looked back and gave him a eerie smile that was all shining sharp teeth. "Because Ragnarok must happen."

The eldest one nodded. "The fate of the world tree has been foretold millennia ago."

"The prophesy must be complete. The worlds must burn to be reborn anew," the youngest finished.

Loki looked from one to the other. They were all sporting the same creepy sharp toothed feral smile, and quite honestly it gave him the willies, which was saying something as he was the one who was supposed to be the villain here.

Psychos, the lot of them. Oh well, as long as they weren't stopping him, and a little chaos never hurt anyone. Mostly.

Loki giggled at the thought and he tipped them an imaginary hat as they left, drifting back into the shadows.

The show was about to start.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

**_MERRY BELATED CHRISTMAS AND A VERY HAPPY BELATED NEW YEAR!_**


	34. Chapter 34 Deaths and Separations

**Author's Note:** _Sorry I've been MIA for a while. I have been up to my eyeballs in classes and work. Hopefully I can get this story finished this autumn. It will be a stretch, I know, but I'm going to try. Either way it looks like this fic will turn out to be an AU. I wanted to try to make it work in the canon, but with the new Thor film coming out…eh. My goal is two chapters a week, I hope to get this done by November before the new movie comes out. So that's the lowdown. At least this fic is almost done, anyways. Wish me luck. Btw there are some Supernatural spoilers in here, if y'all haven't seen Season 8. Fair warning._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

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**Deaths and Separations**

_Chapter 34_

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Jane and Thor made their way back to the main hall, their clasped hands swinging loosely between them. Jane was trying hard not to grin like a crazy person, but she could feel a slightly manic smile creeping at the corner of her mouth. The carnage of the party was still in full swing: a Viking hung from one of the many chandeliers above the roiling mass of drunken combatants. Psylocke was still going strong, firing pink plasma bolts at anyone who looked like they entertained the idea of tangling with her.

"I wish I had my cloak," Jane mumbled, when Thor shielded her from a careening body that had made a beeline straight for them.

"Go get it," Thor said, kissing her cheek. "I will rest easier knowing that you are in your armor."

She grinned at him. "What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Gunnar has attached himself to a chandelier. I am going to educate him as to the peril of his chosen location," Thor replied promptly. "Not a tactical advantage at all. He really should know better."

"Uh huh. Sure you are. And just how do you propose to educate the poor swinging gentlemen?" Jane asked, grin widening. She tugged gently on a lock of his hair.

Thor rolled his eyes like he thought gentlemen was too broad a term. "Pull him down by his ankles and toss him around. He'll get the picture."

"Ah. Well I'll leave you to it, then. Have fun!" Jane started off for her chambers, suddenly eager for the safety of her armor. She'd felt oddly naked all evening without it. Jane had been wearing her cloak armor for nearly a month now. Between the flying dinnerware and superhero drunks this evening, she'd felt she had been spitting in the eye of Murphy's Law by being in anything less than a fully equipped tank.

Thor caught her arm as she walked past him, and gently tugged her close. "I love you, Jane Foster. Have I told you that today?"

Jane rose on her tiptoes so that she could press her forehead to his. "I know, you may have possibly mentioned it a few times." She pecked him on the nose.

"And I will mention it many, many times over before we both cross to Valhalla," Thor told her solemnly.

Jane grinned at him. "I know, and it is the best thing a girl could hope for. Go get em' tiger."

Thor touched her briefly on the cheek before barreling straight into the crowd, pausing only to yank the hanging Gunnar down from his perch on the chandelier. Jane made her exit, eager to be as far away from the danger zone as possible. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the man in front of her until she had almost bowled him over. Jane felt even shittier about the whole thing when she realized he was blind. Thankfully he heard her coming and got out of the way just in time.

"I am so sorry, sir!" Jane was mortified. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

He was dusting himself off and offered her a kind smile. "It's alright. Could you find my staff, please? I dropped it somewhere, but can't imagine where it rolled off to."

It was then that Jane noticed that corneas of his eyes were a milky white color. He was blind. Instantly she felt ten times worse for running him over. Immediately she glanced around the corridor and spied his staff up against a wall.

She handed it to him, apologizing profusely. "I am so, so sorry."

"It's alright. Happens all the time actually." He must have been able to sense her incredulous expression because he clarified. "When you live with that lot in the main hall, you learn to expect some full body contact."

"That's-"Jane paused, trying to think of a diplomatic thing to say. Unfortunately there wasn't any. "That sucks. There's no other way to look at it."

He cocked his head and smiled slightly. "Asgard isn't exactly what you thought it would be, is it?"

Jane blew out a gust of air. She didn't know why she was being so forthright with this stranger, but for some reason he exuded the air of an individual one could entrust their entire life story to. "Well no, not exactly," she admitted.

"You just have to look in the right places. Asgard is a difficult place, with rules and stigmas against those that they perceive to be less developed than them, but we have our moments. For instance, a stranger gifted me with this staff an hour ago. I'd misplaced my old one and am somewhat lost without something to pinpoint obstacles. Someone saw my need and aided me."

Jane admired the gnarled wood that was intricately carved and inlaid with spiky metal leaves. "It is very pretty. Those designs look like something we hang up on Christmas time on Earth. It's nice.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's called Mistletoe. Silly tradition. You're supposed to get hammered and make out if you get caught under it with someone."

"Ah, well. No Asgardian ever would call _that _a silly tradition."

Jane laughed. "After barely surviving the inebriated masses in the Hall, I think I would agree with you. Why aren't you in there jiving, if you don't mind my asking?"

He cleared his throat, and shrugged a little. "I confess that I do not much fit in. What with my…condition, as it were. A certain lever of physical prowess is required to advance in Asgard society, something I so obviously lack. It is a fact that Baldur and the others have never let me forget."

"You'll never know until you try," Jane said simply. "I grew up with nothing. I had to work hard to get my doctorate. No one thought I could do it, since I grew up in a trailer park, dropped out of high school, and only had my GED. Low level schooling," she explained. "On Earth, people tend to judge you by where you come from. You have to take charge of where you're going."

He smiled. "Perhaps you are right. My name is Hodr, by the way."

Jane grinned back. "It was nice meeting you, though I'm sorry I had to clobber you to do it. I'm Jane Foster."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Communication takes time. On behalf of some of my more stubborn brethren who I am sure have forgotten their manners, I welcome you to Asgard."

"Thanks Hodr. I needed to hear that." She shook his hand, feeling slightly more confident than she had a few moments ago.

"Now, if you'll excuse me I believe I will join the festivities. "

Jane resumed her brisk walk back to the Avengers' quarters. She found her cloak armor laid out on the bed exactly as she had left it. She shrugged it on in record time and buckled on her sword harness. Godslayer's slight weight was a reassuring one at the small of her back. For the first time that night she felt safe, even though safety was an illusion. She felt like an oyster that had had the opportunity to crawl back into its shell as opposed to being eaten.

"Ms. Foster?"

Jane let out a quiet shriek when Jarvis loomed up out of the dark corridor to Darcy's room. "Jarvis you scared the crap out of me," she hissed.

The robot looked apologetic. "I am sorry, that was not my intent."

Jane peered passed him into Darcy's room. "Is Darcy okay?"

He nodded. "She is sleeping. I have been monitoring her condition."

"You mean you've been holding the vomit bucket for her because she's trashed," Jane said dryly.

Jarvis sighed. "That is a rather crude summation of the night's events, but yes."

Jane studied the android, noting that while the evening had been extremely wild, he had escaped with not a hair out of place. Jarvis looked impeccably put together, as always. To anyone that met him he was Stark's computerized servant, capable of only day to day chores and completely without human empathy. Jane knew that that wasn't true, not really. Jarvis was capable of caring- he proved that with how he acted the concerned mother hen to Stark. Behavior like that wasn't programmed, it was developed. But what was the extent of his humanity? At the end of the day he was a machine, through and through, with none of the squishy components that humans considered a stable to their biology. Would Darcy really consider that? She knew that her assistant had feelings for Jarvis, and Jane didn't want to see Darcy hurt.

Jane hesitated, and then decided what the hell. She'd already proved that she could be an insensitive ass this evening. She'd might as well keep going.

"Jarvis, may I ask you a personal question?" Jane asked quietly.

The butler stopped what he was doing, folding towels from the linen closet, and turned to face her face perfectly serious. "Of course, Ms. Foster."

"Darcy likes you." The admission left her in a rush of air and immediately Jane wanted to kick herself. This was _not_ how she had wanted to proceed. "What I mean is, and I am not trying to be a jerk, but please don't hurt her."

Jarvis sighed. "What you mean is am I even capable of human empathy even though I am a machine?" He suddenly looked tired. "I have often wondered that myself, sometimes."

Jane felt horrible but she nodded.

Jarvis pulled off his suit jacket, hanging it carefully on the back of a chair, before he unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve. He rolled up his sleeve and offered her his wrist. "Take my pulse."

Jane, not entirely sure what he was getting at, humored him. As she expected there was nothing to be felt, nothing fluttered under his skin to indicate biological function. She looked back up at him, silently asking where he was going with this.

"You can't feel it, but if you were to cut deep enough where your hand is you would sever one of my primary conduits. I would cease to function after a time," Jarvis said. "As would be the case were I to sever your radial artery."

Jane took her hand away and he pulled his sleeve back down. He reached out and touched her wrist where they both knew that her pulse announced the fact that she was alive. "You are a computer yourself, after a fashion," He remarked. Jarvis poked her in the head. "Your central processor decides how you view information and interprets different signals in your body. Correct?"

Jane nodded, feeling slightly silly now.

"It is the same for me. At what point is something sentient? That is a question neither you or I can adequately answer. Cognitive function is a tricky thing. I am me. I am human to Stark and….I am alive to Miss Darcy."

"I'm sorry," Jane said quietly. "But-"

"You care for your friend. You are looking out for her," Jarvis told her, smiling slightly. "I would not respect you if you did not."

"So we're good?" Jane asked. "I didn't mess things up?"

Jarvis shook his head. "I equate feeling to be interest when someone enters a room, concern about their life. These are sensations that can be programmed but besides the initial basic allegiance to Stark and his ventures, Tony has largely left me to evolve on my own. My feelings are mine."

Jane grinned and was about to reply when a heavy explosion rocked the building, shaking dust from the ceiling. Jarvis immediately snapped to attention, looking like he was listening intently. Jane stared at him. "What-" she started.

He held up a hand and she fell silent.

A moment later Jarvis dropped his hand and looked at her. "Both Psylocke, Beast, and War Machine have conflicting reports, but they all agree that there was an explosion in the main hall with many casualties. They also say that Loki and several of his henchman are in the process of infiltrating the Asgard Palace."

Jane's heart dropped into her stomach and she feared the worst. "Is Thor-?"

"Thor is fine. He is with Odin and his mother. We are to meet the rest of the Avengers at the Rainbow Bridge. The meeting is over."

"We can't just _leave_," Jane said, aghast, thinking of Thor.

"We have to," Jarvis said, already heading for Darcy's bedroom. "War Machine is pulling us out. He will give a brief debriefing once we make it back to the Bridge."

Jane felt like someone had clubbed her over the head. There was no time to find Thor. She took a deep breath and rationalized the situation. Thor loved her, and she loved him. That was enough. He would find her when he could. As long as they were both alive it wasn't the end of things. With that she was able to file away her feelings and address the situation at hand. Jane grabbed a bag and began to throw the essentials into it: her and Darcy's computers, some research notebooks, and the jewelry Thor had given her.

She swung the bag over her shoulder just as Jarvis emerged from Darcy's bedroom. Jane's assistant was slumped piggy back over Jarvis's shoulder, murmuring something in her sleep about ass-kicking and Viking Fascists.

Jane snorted. "I'm glad to see someone isn't worried."

"I could not wake her. Perhaps it is best if she sleeps through the excitement," Jarvis said, considering the sleeping girl drooling a little on his nice suit with concern on his face.

"If there is going to be the sort of excitement that means loss of limbs, as I suspect, then I wish I could sleep through it too," Jane muttered. "Why is it we always get caught in the cross fire?"

Jarvis tried to shrug, but it was hard with his current burden. "Such is the fate of the Avengers, I suppose. Come, we must be off. The others are waiting."

"I guess I'll take the lead," Jane said, chewing her lip. "Since you've got your hands full."

"I can step in if needed," Jarvis assured her. "I can be rebuilt. You cannot."

Jane laughed at him. "Darcy would kill you if you dropped her."

"Not if it meant saving your life," Jarvis said somberly.

Jane shut up at that. They were really about to do this again: confront persons unknown, intent on bodily harm. She drew Godslayer, closed her eyes, and went to that quiet place in her mind that she associated with the chip in her head that powered the small Arc reactor in the handle. The blade crackled to life. Jane pushed open their door, Jarvis with Darcy close behind her. The hallway was dark and empty, but elsewhere Jane could hear the sounds of screaming and fighting, and otherworldly howls and snarls. Another explosion rocked the building. Glass tinkled in the distance along with the sound of crumbling rocks.

"What are those howls?" Jane mumbled to herself as they crept as quickly and quietly as they could down the hallway.

Jarvis answered her anyway. "Denizens of Helheim."

Jane glanced back at him, horrified. "What? Like dead people?"

"Yes," he whispered. "We have had some contact with them on Earth, though obviously not to the extent as is here. They have been coming through space time rifts to Earth. Agent Coulson and his team have been handling them thus far, but it appears as though the situation has grown increasingly dire."

"How did I not know about this?"

"You are administration and research. It simply wasn't your department," Jarvis said simply. "Until recently, it was assumed to be none related to the current issue."

"Looks like it is related now," she said.

"Indeed, Ms Foster."

They ran into trouble just as they left the gates of Asgard and progressed into the quiet streets. Two hulking zombies (there was no other word to describe them) shambled out of the darkness and broke into a dead run heading straight for them. Jane reflected later that it was a good thing her muscle memory worked so well. The fight could have gone a lot differently. She swung the bag off her shoulder and slammed it into the head of the first zombie. It snarled, snatched the bag out of her hand and threw it. It crashed into the side of a decorative statue of two ravens and there was a faint crunching sound from something electronic and expensive.

"Stark is going to kill me because you broke one of his toys," Jane snapped. "Thanks for that, asshole."

The zombie hissed at her, displaying rows of sharp gore covered teeth. Jane didn't want to wait for it to do anything else so she beheaded it, Godslayer a tracer of brilliant purple energy cutting through the dark of the night.

There was a slow clap. "Not bad, Grasshopper. You forgot one though."

Jane and Jarvis turned to see Psylocke leaning against one of the ravens. The purple haired ninja casually shook the severed head of the other zombie at them. "What about this guy? He'd have been chewing on your tasty innards if I hadn't happened along. Well," she amended, "Not Jarvis so much. You probably taste terrible."

"Always so astute," Jarvis sighed.

"I aim to please." Psylocke bent and picked up Jane's pack. "Isn't this the bag Stark gave you for all that equipment he lent you? It looks broken."

Jane nodded. "Yep."

"He's going to kill you, you know."

"I am painfully aware, thank you Psylocke."

"Anything for my Grasshopper."

Jane frowned. "Where are Beast and War Machine, by the way?"

Psylocke glanced behind her. "They're catching up. There is a massive hoard of those slavering rot bags on our tail. Our job is to clear the way while they watch our retreat. You up for this?"

"As long as you let me stop to throw up periodically." Jane was only half kidding. She was so scared that the small quantity of booze she had consumed that night was clamoring to be let out onto the sidewalk.

"Just don't expect me to hold your hair."

A loud crash accompanied by a blaze of fire lit up the street behind them. Beast swung out onto an archway, roaring and holding the rotting arm of some unfortunate zombie. Through the light of the fire, Jane could see the teeming multitude of undead rushing towards them.

War Machine blasted out of the crowd of zombies, knocking quite a few of them off of him as he shot straight up into the air. Several zombies paused to launch weapons at him, ranging from long barbed spears to 7.62 AK-47 rounds. The bullets pinged off of his armor in a wild shower of sparks. War Machine's Gatling gun mounted on his back began spraying bullets into the part of the zombie hoard growing increasingly closer to Jane and the others.

"Time to go," Psylocke said. Jane was not going to argue with her.

The ninja took off at a dead run and Jane followed, close on her heels.

The rest of the run to the gateway to Earth was a hellish one. Oftentimes, Jane and her teacher were back to back, cutting down the never ending stream of undead. War Machine and Beast never had to bail them out though, and the eventually made it to the small Hall of Heimdall. The guardian was standing there waiting for them, massive sword held at the ready.

Without waiting for an explanation or greeting, he plunged his sword into the gateway stone, releasing a torrent of energy. Before she was sucked into the vortex, Jane touched him on the arm.

"What happened?" she shouted, voice barely discernible above the din.

Heimdall heard her anyway, and his burning eyes were sad. "Baldur is dead and Ragnarok has begun."

Jane's heart dropped into her stomach in horror. Suddenly all the researching she'd done on Thor and his people when she had first started the Asgard project came back to her. She felt like a fool. How could she not have seen it? Hodr was destined to kill Baldur due to the machinations of Loki, thus starting the Norse Apocalypse. Like a moron she'd practically encouraged the poor man to go in there with his mistletoe death stick and unwittingly bring hell down on his people. All because she'd told him to go have fun. Jane felt like she was going to be sick.

Then the vortex sucked her and the rest of the Avengers team back to Earth.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

"How many dead?" Thor asked.

His armor was stained with old coagulated blood and he was surrounded by gaunt tired warriors, all that remained of the revelers of the evening. What had started out as a night of joy had ended in blood. The Asgard had rallied though, beating the vast majority of the intruders from the castle. There had been no sign of Loki, but Thor knew that his brother was at the heart of the trouble.

"Almost a third of us, my lord." Frey's voice was a harsh guttural growl. "But the Castle has been purged and locked down."

"But we are ready to wreck revenge on Helheim for their invasion," Frey's sister, Freya, added quickly.

"That is not necessary. Lock down Asgard," Thor ordered, "And make sure our people have been moved into the Keep. This a siege, and we must not let the enemy in again."

Frey nodded. "Consider it done. The All Father has ordered a tribunal to be convened against Hodr to find out whether he had anything to do with the attack. The Norns are silent on the matter, but it is no secret that they wanted Ragnarok to come to pass."

"The Norns have been losing power for generations," Thor mused. He tapped Mjolnir against his thigh. "I would not be surprised to find that they sided with Loki. With Ragnarok upon us, people will flock back to their temples for guidance."

"The All Father will not pursue justice against them," a Viking from the crowd called. "We must root them out!"

Thor shook his head. "How can he? He is beset on all sides by enemies as it is. He must first secure the gates and his own people before he can begin to combat the lesser of the evils."

The Viking who'd posed the question grumbled but fell silent. Thor looked at each and every one of them in turn. The Asgard were strong warriors and would protect their own with their lives. His beloved city was in good hands.

Thor raised his voice to be heard by the entire company. "You have your orders, soldiers. Move out!"

They roared in unison, raising their weapons to the sky. It was a call of camaraderie that at the same time promised retribution for their enemies. Thor watched them march off, led by Freya, slightly surprised to find that he had no misgivings with what he was about to do.

"What are you intending, my lord?" Frey had not left with the others. Instead he stood watching his lord, slightly curious. "You are not going to lead us?"

Thor shook his head. "This attack was a distraction orchestrated by my brother. His true desire lies in the destruction and subjugation of Midgard."

"Forgive me my lord, but why do you care? From a battle point of view we have nothing to gain from involving ourselves in their problems."

Thor dropped his hand on Frey's shoulder. "You're wrong, and right. Midgard is crucial for it is the hub through which access can be gained to the upper realms. If Midgard falls, Asgard, Alfheim, and Vanaheim will be next. Besides, Earth is now my home," Thor said simply. "They are also my people. I cannot in good conscious let them fight and die whilst I sit safe in my golden hall."

There was a long moment of silence, but finally Frey nodded. He clapped Thor on the shoulder and pulled on his battered helm. "I stand beside you my lord, come what may. Luck be with you. And if she fails us both, then may we both meet in Valhalla."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Stark, Pepper, Natasha, Fury, and Coulson were all waiting for them when the vortex spat them back out at Hafrstadr. Natasha and Stark were both armored up, Stark in his Iron Man suit and Natasha in her trademark black body armor. A short distance away a bald man in a motorized wheel chair who looked a little bit like Captain Picard waited along with a woman with wild white hair and caramel colored skin. Their faces were all rather grim, and Jane wondered whether something had happened while they were away.

Stark stepped forward, his face bleak and sad. He took Jane's hands in his own, clasping them gently. Then he touched her cheek. "Jane, I- I have some terrible news."

Jane's heart fell into her stomach. She didn't think she could handle any more sad news. Sudden images of anyone she cared about hurt flooded her mind. Erik, Darcy's family, her team at the research station, hurt or dead. Oh god, something horrible had happened. She took a deep, shuddering break, readying herself for the onslaught.

"Are you ready?" Stark asked softly. "I can wait for a better time."

"Tell me," Jane said in a small voice. Better to rip the Band-Aid off now, rather than later.

Stark cupped her cheeks and looked deep into her eyes. "Supernatural killed off all of your favorite characters. Meg is dead, Sheriff Mills is dead, Samantha Carter lasted for a season and then got killed off by a psycho bookworm, Sarah's dead, Garth is most likely dead, and-"

"You jerk!" Jane hauled off and punched him hard in the shoulder. "Ow!" She cradled her stinging hand. "That hurt."

Stark looked perplexed. "My armor is missile proof, so obviously it can withstand your puny little digits. Why on Earth would you punch it? That's not very smart. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of rocket scientist?"

Jane glared at him. "You are a massive buttface. I have been stabbed, shot at, nearly eaten, and you just RUINED my favorite series. You are not helping my bad day any."

"Relax dollface. It's Supernatural, what did you expect? Now, Doctor Who picked a new doctor, and-"

"Shut up Stark."

Pepper hugged her sympathetically. "At least Sherlock isn't out yet. He can't ruin that for you."

"What, the one with that Bendy Bumber Snatch fellow? I have a source in Britain that says-"

"SHUT UP STARK!" Jane, Pepper, and a now very much awake Darcy shouted.

"Sheesh. Obviously some people can't properly appreciate spoilers." Stark mumbled.

"That's enough." Fury's deep no nonsense voice cut off Jane's angry retort. He gestured at the gentleman seated in the wheel chair. "This is Professor Xavier, leader of the X-Men, and his assistant Storm. Come, we have to debrief. There isn't much time."

"What happened while we were gone?" War Machine's deep timbre was serious and concerned.

"A lot." Natasha stepped forward and handed both War Machine and Beast thick files marked _Confidential_. "The jet's waiting."

The small group tromped down the mountain to the jet standing by at the hastily made airstrip. The climb down was not a pleasant one. While Jane and the others had been gone, a bitter European winter had descended, layering the already treacherous ground in snow and ice. The mutant Storm kept the bitter wind and snow from pelting them, while Xavier kept anyone who tripped from breaking their face open on the ground with his telekinesis, but it was still rough going.

As they picked their way along, Natasha fell back to walk with Jane and Darcy and Pepper. "So how did it go?" she asked, jerking her head at Psylocke's back.

Jane grinned. "She's mean and she's prickly, but I learned a lot. I have some awesome sword moves to show you when we get back."

Natasha waggled her eyebrows. "And golden boy? Did he put the moves on you?"

Pepper and Darcy both cleared their throats and leaned closer. Jane went bright red, squirming. The whole girly freak out thing was hard for her and their expectant grinning faces were not helping any.

"Well, he kind of, um, asked me to, uh, marr-"

Stark cut her off. "What are you all whispering about, and why wasn't I invited? I mean, if you all are discriminating against the fact that I do not have boobs, that is extremely sexist and unfair and I object."

"_Shut up Stark_!" Natasha shouted.

Jane breathed a sigh of relief as her friends were thoroughly distracted from her drama by Stark's meddling. She'd wanted to keep Thor's question to herself for a bit, mainly because with the current crisis it seemed both a tad impossible and surreal. There was no time for a happy ending.

Not yet anyway.

* * *

><p><em>.x.<em>

_To Be Continued…_


	35. Chapter 35 Last Suppers and Family

**Author's Note:** _This chapter was roughly edited, and for that I apologize. Sorry if it looks weird._

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing._

**Last Suppers and Family**

_Chapter 35_

The Avengers relocated to a base located in the northern most reaches of Norway, a mostly underground bunker on the precipice of a cliff that over looked the frigid, turbulent white water of a remote fjord. Jane and Darcy spent much of the flight to the bunker sitting together in silence while Fury, the Avengers, and the X-Men discussed their game plan in tense low tones at the back of the aircraft.

"Want some coffee?" Pepper asked, carrying a steaming carafe and some cups. She settled in across from them without waiting for an answer and set down her burden.

"God yes," Jane said, reaching for a cup. Coffee after days of nothing but mead and ale and water sounded absolutely divine. The Asgard were certainly advanced, but their meager selection of drinks certainly left much to be desired.

Pepper sank into the seat opposite Darcy and Jane and began handing out the cups. Jane filled them all with coffee while Pepper added cream and sugar. They spent a moment in pensive silence, watching the clouds go by, while they drained their coffee.

Jane set her empty cup down carefully. "So what happens now?" she asked, jerking her head back at the group at the back of the plane.

Pepper had a worried and stressed expression lining her face. "You know about the space time rifts, right?"

Jane and Darcy both nodded.

"Filled with zombies wanting to eat our brains," Darcy supplied helpfully.

Pepper allowed a brief tired smile. "That sounds about right. Anyway, while you were gone, techs detected a massive rift beginning to open. We have the technology to keep it from spreading, but we have to keep whatever comes out of it contained, whatever the cost. We can't let people know there are monsters at the door- there'd be widespread panic."

"It sounds like things are finally coming to a head," Jane said quietly.

"Yes," Pepper said, "All the pieces are falling into place. There have been reports that the Skinwalker has been sighted in Europe, as well as Spider Man. Now Loki has started Ragnarok in Asgard. All the major players are on the board. For better or for worse-"

"The end is nigh," Darcy finished.

Jane curled her cold fingers around her coffee, breathing in the steam. "So how have you and Stark been?" she asked.

"Well no one has sued him. That's something," Pepper said dryly. "Essentially we've been very busy. Though he has been watching an insane amount of television."

Darcy laughed. "All girly nerdy stuff right?"

"Yes, how did you know," Pepper asked with a slight frown. "It's odd. He never really cared about that sort of thing before."

Jane rolled her eyes. "He's been catching up on all my favorite things, just so he could lord it over me that he knows the endings and I don't."

"Ah. That explains a lot." Pepper levied a glare at the back of Stark's head. "He missed our date to Emeril's so he could catch the season premiere of Sleepy Hollow."

"Thank god he hasn't ruined that for me," Jane muttered. "I'd have to kill him." She wadded up her napkin and lobbed it at the back of Stark's head. Psylocke caught it in midair before it could strike and shook her head at them in disgust.

"I'm sorry, Pepper." Darcy patted the back of Pepper's hand. "Our nerd-dom has ruined your love life."

Pepper laughed. "Not really. I knew what I was getting into when Stark and I got together. I love him, for better or for worse."

Natasha chose at that point to break off from the Avengers and X-Men huddle at the back of the jet. The Black Widow had dark circles under her eyes along with a nasty cut running from her eyebrow to her hairline. Jane wondered briefly how Natasha had been injured, and suspected that things had not gone well on Earth while they'd been away. Natasha dropped into a cushion by Jane, sprawling out her long legs and taking up most of the room.

"So Psylocke tells me you kicked Sif's ass, punched a few courtiers, and killed a bunch of zombies," Natasha said without preamble.

Jane still felt guilty about beating Sif. She'd never been able to shake the feeling that she had irrevocably destroyed something within Sif that fateful day. "It was just luck," Jane said, quietly. Nothing about her battle had been anything Natasha or Psylocke would have admired. There had been no show of skill on Jane's part. Just pure dumb luck and several mistakes by Sif.

Natasha ignored Jane and looked straight at Darcy. "Is that the truth or a lie?"

"Sif no longer has dibs on Thor because Jane beat her up," Darcy explained. "However she wants to look at it, she still won. And she's smarter," Darcy added.

"Darcy!"

Darcy stuck her tongue out at Jane, completely unapologetic. "Well it's true. You have a Ph.D in Astrophysics, and now you have a Ph.D in asskicking. Deal with it."

"Hah!" Natasha crowed. "Fury will be happy to hear that.

"Why?" Jane asked suspiciously. Fury had never once been happy about anything that had to do with her relationship with Thor unless he got something out of it.

"Apparently Sif was snooty with him when he asked for an audience with Odin," Natasha said, still laughing.

Jane dropped her head into her hand and groaned. "So he's happy I won because she hurt his feelings?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

"Oh god."

Darcy primly raised her coffee up to her lips. "It's Fury, what would you expect? I shudder to think of what he must have been like in High School."

Natasha leaned forward, reaching for the coffee. "In all seriousness though, it's nice to have us all back together again. It didn't feel right somehow with you gone."

"Aww," Jane grinned. "You missed us."

Natasha glowered. "A bit."

Darcy brightened. "Awesome! I'll knit us friendship hats!"

Natasha and Jane and Pepper both began to loudly try to dissuade her from that. For all their banter and yelling though, they were friends. A load Jane hadn't known she'd been carrying dropped from her shoulders. She, Natasha, Pepper, and Darcy were an unlikely group but Jane wouldn't trade them for the world.

With them she felt she could face anything.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

It did not take Thor and Frey long to find where Loki had breached Asgard's defenses. There was a gaping hole in one of the storage rooms in the bowls of Asgard that reeked of dark magic and the undead. Thor wasn't surprised to find his brother long gone. Loki had never been one for sticking around to own up to his messes. Thor was surprised, however, to find the Norns clustered around the hole like hunched black vultures and using their magic to hide evidence of the rift.

The Norns had definitely supported the prophesy of Ragnarok, but Thor could hardly believe they'd stoop to actually getting their hands dirty. Still, the evidence did not lie. The Norns were in league with Loki.

They let out a collective eerie shriek when they realized they were spotted. The Norns lunged for the gaping hole of the rift, but Thor and Frey were faster. Thor collared one while Frey bashed two over the head with the flat of his broad sword. Frey's targets crumpled to the floor like dirty piles of goth laundry.

The Norn Thor was detaining was snarling and spitting angrily, nothing at all like the refined image she and her sisters once tried to project. It was sad, showing just how far the Asgard had fallen. They were a shadow of their former selves. The galaxy was falling into grave peril because the Asgard could not solve their own crisis. Thor gave her a firm shake. "Behave, or I'll let Frey have you."

The Norn quieted with a reluctant growl, and was relatively still save for the occasional wiggle. The two bodies at Frey's feet were alarmingly still, and for a moment Thor wasn't sure they were even still alive. He stared incredulously at Frey who was poking at the Norns on the floor with flat of his sword. "We need them for questioning, which they can't do if they're unconscious," Thor said.

Frey shrugged. "At least they are detained, and not escaped out of our reach into to midst of our enemies."

"…You hit them fairly hard. Are they still breathing?" Thor asked, still looking uncertainly at Frey's victims.

Frey nudged one of the piles hard with the toe of his boot. The pile made a sluggish growling noise. Frey looked back at Thor. "They're fine."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Peter Parker sat on a rusting green bench in Oslo, Norway, sipping a thermos of tomato soup he'd Macgyvered together in his hostel room, watching people stream past as they went across their daily lives. No one paid any attention to him, but that was how he wanted it. At the Daily Bugle his ability to fade into the background was mainly a curse. Invisible photographers didn't often get work. But as Spider Man's alter ego, the ability to blend in was invaluable. No one noticed the slight, scruffy man sitting on the bus bench sipping soup as the world rushed by. He wasn't a threat, he wasn't even an oddity.

More importantly the sharply dressed business woman across the street did not notice him either. The Skinwalker was wearing a tall strawberry blond with an ample chest, having long ago shed the guise of her old victim. She looked nothing like her previous skin, but Parker would know her anywhere.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, distracting him a moment. He pulled it out and despite the dour situation, smiled. MJ had that effect on him. She was the one bright spot in the dark storm of his life.

_How r u? 3_

He was unable to stop the goofy grin spreading across his face_. Fitn crme. Wht r u doing?_

_Landry. Nt as cool as crme fiting, lol_.

His smile slipped, and he sobered. _Id rathr b doing landry w/ u, thn here any day._

Her response was prompt_. I love you. Be safe and come home._

He texted back his assent and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Peter Parker stood and took a deep breath of Oslo's crisp, cool air. He took time to pay attention to the different scents: exhaust from the cars, stone from the buildings, the trees along the sidewalk, and the underlying briny smell of the sea. He committed everything to memory just in case it would be his last.

Then Parker followed the Skinwalker into the law office that was a front for her new lab. One of them wouldn't be walking back out.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Thor didn't wait around to see the Norns' fate. Odin would deal with them as he saw fit, and with the death of so many Asgardians on top of an invasion of a peace conference, the All Father's mercy would be minimal.

Instead he strode briskly to Loki's old room, avoiding the confused mill of soldiers and courtiers. For once he was glad Sif was so prominent now. She would be ensconced with Odin and Asgard's top generals, and not out looking for him. Thor would be free to make his own plans.. He had not had much time to navigate Sleipnir's workings, but the Rainbow bridge was now shut down. Odin was taking no chances that more of Helhiem's creatures could make it into Asgard. Sleipnir was Thor's only chance at reaching Earth.

The machine itself waited in Loki's hidden lab exactly as Thor had left it. The only difference was that it was laid out and ready to be powered up. Sleipnir was huge, faintly resembling a horse. It didn't look like something capable of transversing the worlds but Thor now had little choice. He had hoped never to have to use Sleipnir, for it was an unknown danger created by his brother, but war was coming. He stood before it, carefully checking to make sure that everything was in order.

"Leaving so soon, my son?"

Thor turned. Frigga stood behind him, hands clasped in front of her. She looked worried but resigned, and Thor realized that she had no intention of stopping him from leaving.

"Yes, mother," Thor said softly, "And I do not know when I will return."

"I was afraid of that," Frigga murmured. "Sif will be sorry, and the Warriors Three will be bitter that they could not accompany you."

"They are needed here," Thor said firmly. "I believe Loki's attack on Asgard was meant as a distraction so that Asgard would not come to Earth's aid were Loki to attack. I could be wrong, but they must remain behind to protect the city should my suspicions prove true."

"So this is goodbye?" Frigga asked finally, coming to stand in front of him. She had been a pillar of strength and support his entire life, but now his mother seemed oddly small.

Thor nodded, unsure of what he should say to his her. Goodbye seemed wrong, somehow.

"Come back when you are finished," she said. "And bring Jane with you."

That surprised him. He hadn't had a chance to discuss his relationship with Jane with his parents, really. His status with her had remained confusing up until her arrival in Asgard. Odin had voiced his disapproval and Thor had figured that his mother had generally supported his father, as she did with most things.

Frigga smiled, as though she knew the rout that Thor's thoughts had taken. "You've chosen well. Dr. Foster will make a good life companion for you. I look forward to seeing her take her place in Asgard."

Thor could only nod. He wasn't sure Jane would want to move to Asgard, and he had carefully avoided the subject with her. He wanted her with him for the rest of his life, and he knew she wanted the same, but he wasn't sure she wanted that life to be in Asgard. He didn't tell Frigga that, though. He merely kissed his mother on the cheek with a murmured apology for leaving. Then he turned to his brother's machine.

Thor straddled Sleipnir. Once it registered a rider, Sleipnir powered to life with a low rumbling roar.

Frigga retreated to the doorway where she waited, face creased with worry. Thor didn't blame her. Her last son was about to ride an unknown contraption built by her psychotic other son into the dark unknown. He raised his hand in farewell.

Sleipnir seemed to sense its rider's desire to leave. A force-field boiled up around the craft, churned up by its eight spinning engines. Through the bright green light created by the energy, Thor could see his mother's white face. Moment of truth time. Thor closed his eyes and pictured Earth, shining like a green and blue jewel alone in a sea of black.

Sleipnir's low roar changed to a hair raising scream and then Thor had the uncomfortable sensation of being pulled in several different directions at once before he disappeared into the ether.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Loki stood with Hel, watching from a safe distance as Surt and his forces battered down the gates of Asgard. Though they were well out of range, Loki could smell the acrid scent of smoke and charred metal. The screams and yells of soldiers mixed with the angry roars of Surt's army.

It was absolutely glorious.

"Look at them all," Loki murmured softly. "So desperately afraid."

Hel glanced at him. "We should leave. Fenrir is almost within Earth's orbit, and Jormungandr is waking. Why do you tarry?"

"Because a little carnage is healthy for the soul," Loki replied with absolutely no remorse.

Hel scanned Asgard's army, frowning. "I do not see Thor. Frey has taken his place at the front lines to challenge Surt, instead. I wonder why?"

Loki's smile was a slightly feral and quite mad one. "Because he could not resist leaving poor, dear sweet Jane alone. Thor has correctly guessed that Baldr's death and the invasion of Surt is a front, and that Midgard is next. So, so predictable, dear brother."

Hel stood quietly, letting her father rant. Oftentimes she enjoyed his presence, feeling she belonged where she had never had before. Sometimes, though, she was slightly afraid of him. Loki had a dark streak simmering just under the surface, hidden carefully by his genteel veneer. Whenever it came out to play Hel had the urge to run screaming in the opposite direction.

Not for the first time, she wondered just what she had gotten herself into. It was too late, though. She was in deep. Besides, if she did not stay, she would not get to meet her mother.

Loki tapped his staff on the ground and offered his daughter a chilling smile. "Come, Hel, we have a planet to burn."

Hel followed him wordlessly into the abyss.

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Sleipnir scorched a small crater the size of a minivan when Thor landed it just outside the Avenger's small base in Norway. Not knowing if the incoming ball of lighting and fire was friend or foe, a small contingent of an Avengers hit squad waited for him, their laser sites steadily pointed at his chest.

Thor ignored them. "Jane!" he bellowed. "Darcy?"

Several of the hit squad looked at each other, confused. A few rolled their eyes.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the guest of honor." A huge black man wearing an eye patch and a scowl shouldered his way out of the crowd of Avengers, followed by a slender balding man in a suit. Behind him, a man in a wheel chair baring a strong resemblance to Captain Picard waited along with a fierce looking woman with coffee and cream skin and a striking shock of white hair. All of them sported rather grim and stressed expressions.

Thor crossed his arms. He had never met Director Nick Fury, but he had heard a lot about him from Jane and Heimdall. Not really any of it was pleasant though whilst Fury was not exactly known for his people skills, Thor had to commend him on his ability to lead.

"You know me," Thor said flatly.

Fury shrugged. "The whole the Avengers know who you are, mate. The question is, do-"

"Thor!"

Jane came barreling out of the crowed, shouldering soldiers out of the way. Darcy was right behind her along with a man clad in odd red and gold armor and a woman in a black body suit. The woman was scowling, muttering something about "shoulda made sure the situation was secure before rushing in like a moron."

Jane did not hesitate but rushed straight up to him and Thor swung her up and into a bone crushing hug.

"Hey Coulson?" Fury said, watching the reunion. "Why do I even bother?"

"Because someone has to follow procedure, Sir," Coulson replied. "I assume we're conscripting Thor into our ranks?"

Fury watched as the Thunder God was quickly enveloped by the small crowed consisting of Jane, Darcy, Iron Man, Natasha, and a newly arrived Jarvis.

"You're damn right."

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_To be continued...Please review!_


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